Guardian Angel
by PhantomSiren
Summary: COMPLETE! Just wanted to change the genre.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own the phantom of the opera or any of its characters ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------- Guardian Angel  
  
Prologue  
  
Erik tried to play his organ, but nothing came to him. He sighed, stood up, and checked his silver pocket watch. Nadir should be here soon. I wonder why he wants to see me. Erik sighed again and started to pace. Nadir's company would be a welcome diversion from his solitude.  
  
Six months. It had been six months since Christine left him for that fop.  
  
Erik shook his head. Best not to think of it.  
  
"Erik!"  
  
Erik looked up. Nadir was walking towards him. Erik scowled; he had been so caught up in his musings he hadn't heard the boat. That could be dangerous.  
  
"Hello, Nadir", Erik said. "Why did you want to see me?"  
  
Nadir raised an eyebrow. "When did you become so direct? Never mind. The thing is. well. Maybe I should show you."  
  
He waved his arm to indicate the boat. Erik glanced at Nadir, then saw a movement. He looked sharply at the boat.and at the girl getting out of it. 


	2. Chapter 1: Meet Michelle

Disclaimer: I still don't own the phantom of the opera.  
  
Guardian Angel- Chapter One  
  
"What is this?!"  
  
The girl winced at Erik's roar, then glared at the daroga. That seemed like a good idea to him. Erik gave Nadir a look that would have melted steel.  
  
"Now Erik," Nadir said trying to pacify his friend,"You're the only one I could come to. Michelle is the niece of a very good friend of mine, and she's in danger."  
  
"Who is Michelle?"  
  
The girl finally spoke up. "That would be me."  
  
Erik reverted his gaze to the child- she couldn't be much over sixteen- and took in her appearance. She was tall- about five-foot six, long brown hair in braids, and eyes that weren't very large, but not incredible narrow either. He couldn't tell their color in the dim light. She had an average mouth, although her lips were full and pouty and looked very kissable.  
  
Erik shook his head. What was he doing, thinking about a child that way? He turned back to Nadir. "What kind of danger?"  
  
"Well.it's hard to explain."  
  
"No it isn't", the girl, Michelle said. She looked at Erik and continued," To be perfectly frank, I overheard some men plotting a murder. Said men discovered me and will no doubt attempt to eliminate me as well." She clasped her hands behind her back. "And that is most certainly that. Well, sort of."  
  
Erik studied her. She certainly seemed more mature than her age indicated. "I'm flattered, Nadir", he said still studying her. "I never would have believed you'd trust me with a child."  
  
Flames appeared in Michelle's eyes and Nadir made a noise that sounded like he was choking back laughter. Michelle stalked forward until she was almost nose to nose with Erik, looked him straight in the eye, and firmly stated," I am twenty-three years old."  
  
Erik's eyebrows rose. "Really?" he was a little surprised his voice came out sounding so steady; her proximity was doing odd things to him, and he didn't like it. At least he understood Nadir's humor.  
  
"Yes", she said, then raised her eyebrows. "How old are you?"  
  
Erik smiled wirily. "Too old for you."  
  
If Michelle was shocked, she didn't show it. "I didn't ask that."  
  
"Thirty-five." Erik stepped back and looked at Nadir. "I suppose I can look after the girl."  
  
Nadir sighed in relief. "Thank you."  
  
Michelle looked doubly annoyed. "I am not a 'girl.'"  
  
Erik raised an eyebrow again. "Then what are you, for you don't look like a boy."  
  
Her chin went up a notch. "I am a young woman that does not like condescending, chauvinistic men like you!"  
  
Erik was taken aback. No one had ever spoken to him in such a manner. He opened his mouth to retaliate, but closed it when Nadir chuckled.  
  
"Yes, I believe you two will do well together", he said as he started to leave. "I just hope you don't kill each other instead."  
  
Nadir rowed away, leaving an astounded Erik and a bemused Michelle together.  
  
Michelle turned back to Erik. "Well, that was interesting. I suppose we're stuck together for the time being. But don't worry. I'll try to stay out of your way." She smiled.  
  
Erik sighed. "Fine. I'll.show you to your room."  
  
Michelle picked up the two small suitcases had hadn't noticed and led her to the room that used to be Christine's. Michelle looked around and whistled. "Nice place."  
  
Erik grimaced. "Yes it is." *But not nice enough to keep her here.*  
  
"Her who?"  
  
Erik looked sharply at Michelle who looked confused. "Did I say that aloud?" he asked.  
  
Michelle smiled. "Yes, you did."  
  
Erik growled," Never mind who she is."  
  
Michelle shrugged. "As you like it. What time do you usually get up in the morning?"  
  
He smiled grimly. "Didn't Nadir tell you anything about me?"  
  
"Yes. That you're name is Erik, you wear a mask, and you're also known as the Opera Ghost."  
  
"Exactly", Erik said storming out. "And ghosts don't sleep."  
  
He slammed the door on his way out. *That was uncalled for*, Michelle thought. Then she shrugged. *Oh, well. He'll feel better tomorrow after I make him a wonderful breakfast.*  
  
Cheered by this thought, Michelle got ready for bed, then drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.  
  
Erik went to his organ, planning on trying to get something done. But, as before, nothing came to him.  
  
*Might as well go to bed*, he thought. *Or maybe 'go to coffin' would be more precise.*  
  
Erik went into his room and climbed into his coffin. *Perhaps it won't be so bad. After all, she did promise to stay out of my way.*  
  
Erik drifted off to sleep, wondering what color her eyes were. 


	3. Chapter 2: Breakfast Time

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Never have. Never will. (  
  
Guardian Angel: Chapter 2  
  
The next morning, Erik awoke surprised to find he had slept through the night. *I wonder how my little guest slept.* He left his room, planning to get some toast for his breakfast then making another attempt to write something, when he was assailed by a dozen warm, savory scents. Bemused, he entered the kitchen, and the scene that greeted Erik surprised him to the point of speechlessness.  
  
Michelle was busily bustling around the kitchen making what Erik assumed was her breakfast. She was humming some song in a sweet mezzo soprano.  
  
For some reason, the domestic scene filled Erik with warmth. That annoyed him.  
  
"What are you doing?" he demanded. Michelle turned to face him looking a bit surprised herself. Then.she smiled at him.  
  
"Good morning," she said cheerfully. "I'm so happy you're up now. It means I timed your breakfast perfectly. Do you drink coffee? Of course you do. If you didn't, you wouldn't have any, right? Right. How do you take it?"  
  
Erik just stood there. His head was spinning from the whirlwind of words she just spurted out. "Black," he finally said.  
  
"Okay." Michelle poured him a large cup of coffee and handed it to him. Erik didn't take the mug at once. Instead he held it, and Michelle's hand, and looked into her eyes. Michelle was becoming a bit unnerved. Goodness, she thought, he has lovely gold eyes. The thought surprised her. She tried to think of something intelligent to say, but her brain didn't seem to be functioning properly. Fortunately, Erik broke the silence first. "What color are your eyes?" he asked.  
  
Michelle's eyes widened in confusion. "Pardon?"  
  
"Your eyes. What color are they?"  
  
She still seemed confused that he would ask, and Erik found that he enjoyed confusing her.  
  
"Jade," she finally said. "Jade with amber flecks."  
  
Erik nodded, but didn't remove his hand from hers. Michelle swallowed nervously, though she wasn't sure why she was nervous. "Um, breakfast is almost ready," she said lamely.  
  
Erik frowned. "No, thank you," he said coolly.  
  
"What?" Michelle was thoroughly confused again. Why wouldn't he want breakfast? It was, after all, the most important meal of the day.  
  
"I do not wish to have breakfast," he continued as if she hadn't said anything, "and I would appreciate it if you would ask my permission before going through and using anything in my kitchen or home."  
  
That cut it. "Look here, Monsieur le Fantome," she said, eyes flashing, in a French accent on the French words, and in rising volume, "I worked all morning to make you a nice meal, hoping it would cheer you up. And what do I get for my consideration? I'll tell you what." By now she was shouting. "A big fat nothing, that's what! Well, you know what? I'm not putting up with that. You are going to eat a huge breakfast and like it. Now, sit DOWN!"  
  
Erik sat before he realized he had followed her orders. Before he could stand again, a plate heaped with eggs, sausage, fried potatoes, and a blueberry muffin was set before him. "Enjoy," Michelle chirped, all sweetness again. Erik sneered and took a bite of the muffin. Much to his despair, it was delicious, light and sweet and fluffy. He swallowed and looked at the rest of his meal. Everything was cooked perfectly and was making his mouth water. He looked up to see Michelle grinning smugly at him.  
  
"I'm glad you like it," she said before turning back to the sink to clean the dishes.  
  
"Aren't you going to eat?" Erik asked around a piece of sausage.  
  
"I ate before you got up and, as you've resigned yourself to eating," she glanced at his rapidly emptying plate, "I can talk while you finish."  
  
"Do you talk a lot?"  
  
She grinned. "Constantly."  
  
"Well, I don't."  
  
"Good," she said. "I'll talk, you listen." She paused. "Um.Is there something I could call you besides 'Erik'? I mean, do you have a last name?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Oh." She bit her lip. "That's unfortunate. I'm used to addressing people as 'Miss' or 'Mister' and the like."  
  
Erik looked at her. "You're British."  
  
She grinned again. "Is it that obvious?"  
  
Erik felt his lips twitch. "Your accent is most definitely obvious."  
  
Before she could answer, Erik continued, "How do people usually address you?"  
  
Michelle thought a moment. "Well, most people call me 'Miss Michelle'."  
  
"Miss Michelle." Erik said her name as if tasting it, testing the way it rolled off his tongue. Michelle felt a shiver go down her spine. His voice was almost like a caress.  
  
Michelle shook herself. What in the world put that thought in her head? She sighed. *I really should stop reading all those novels.*  
  
Erik heard her sigh and wondered about it. He mentally shrugged; it was none of his concern. Now why did that that thought depress him?  
  
He drank the last of his coffee and stood. "Thank you. It was delicious."  
  
She looked at him, surprised by his thanks. "You're welcome." She grinned. "You could use some fattening up." She collected his empty plate and returned to the sink.  
  
Erik was shocked. Were all young ladies so forward? "I do not need 'fattening up'."  
  
Michelle looked at him over her shoulder. "You are far too skinny. I could probably see your ribs if you weren't wearing a shirt." She froze, seeming to realize what she had said, then turned back to the dishes blushing furiously.  
  
Erik was greatly amused. So she wasn't as bold as she acted. Chuckling, he left the kitchen. Then he stopped. He had spent more time laughing and smiling in the last half hour than he had in his entire life. He looked over his shoulder to the kitchen. She would no doubt be in his way all the time, but Erik had a feeling it wouldn't be such a bad thing.  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's Note: Okay, so it was kinda boring. I just thought we should get to know the girl a little better. The next chapter will be better. I promise! 


	4. Chapter 3: A Midnight Meeting

Disclaimer: You guessed it. I don't own it.  
  
Guardian Angel  
  
Erik and Michelle's lives evolved into a kind of routine. Every day Michelle would cook and clean for Erik and herself; Erik would eat and continue in vain to try to write some music. This was interlaced with a dozen squabbles a day.  
  
"Get that thing out of my face," Erik ordered one day. Michelle was dusting his organ, while Erik was playing it. "Can't you do that when I'm somewhere else?"  
  
Michelle planted her hands, and the duster, on her hips. "The only time you are somewhere else is at mealtime, and then I have to watch to make sure you eat."  
  
Erik glared at her. "You are not my keeper."  
  
"If you say so. Sometimes I don't know who's protecting whom from what. Are you protecting me from killers, or am I protecting you from yourself?"  
  
She started dusting again. "Now go read or something. I have work to do."  
  
"So do I," Erik grumbled, but got up anyway. "Nothing worse than an imp with a feather duster."  
  
Michelle glanced at him, amused. "No one's ever called me an imp before."  
  
Erik was able to keep from returning her grin through great control. "Well they should. You're always so happy and chipper it's disgusting."  
  
Some emotion Erik couldn't describe passed across her face. She turned her back to him, and said in a voice so low he almost missed it, "Not always."  
  
* * * * *  
  
She was having a dream.  
  
She knew because it was the same dream she'd had for the past ten years. *But I stopped having it months ago.*  
  
It was always the same. She was walking through a dark, misty crypt. It was empty, save for one ornate black coffin placed in the only raw of light. She didn't want to, but her legs carried her to the coffin's side.  
  
There was a carving at the head of the casket: a golden cross designed to resemble bones.  
  
Her hand reached out to lift the lid. *No, No!* her mind screamed. But her dream-self didn't hear. Never did. She lifted the lid and peered inside. It was a man. A dead man.  
  
Suddenly, his eyes shot open, cold and grey. A decomposing hand grasped her arm. His lips never moved, but she heard him say, "You will be mine." She awoke to the sound of her terrorized screams. * * * * * Erik shot up when he heard the scream. He had been sitting in his room, contemplating ideas for a new opera, when a terrified shriek pierced the night.  
  
Michelle.  
  
He tore out of his room. Only Michelle would be down here, with only one reason to scream. Dear God. Had the killers found her? He burst into her room, terrified that he would find her with her throat slit.  
  
Instead, she was huddling by the headboard. Sobs were wracking her body, which suddenly seemed so fragile. Erik took a step forward. She somehow sensed his presence and her head shot up. What he saw in her eyes shocked him to the core. His confident, capable imp had disappeared, leaving in her place a frightened girl. "Erik?"  
  
He took another step forward, and she threw herself into his arms. Erik followed his instincts and wrapped his arms around her. "Shh. It's okay, Imp. I'm here." He stroked her hair-it was so soft- and whispered reassuring nonsense until she had cried all her tears.  
  
Michelle pulled away, sniffling. Erik sat her on the bed. "Want to talk about it?" he asked.  
  
Michelle looked up at him. She seemed to realize what she had just done and tried to regain her usual composure. "I-I'm s-sorry," she said. "It w-was j- just a l-little nightmare."  
  
Erik frowned and bent to light the lamp on the nightstand by her bed. "A little nightmare wouldn't have you crying and frightened like that."  
  
She looked down again. Erik wished she would tell him. Maybe he could help. It was a foreign feeling to him, but he hated seeing this sweet woman so terrified. He hated seeing her cry. He hated that she needed to cling like a child to him for comfort.  
  
*Well, maybe I don't hate that so much * he thought. His body had found the press of her full breasts against his chest quite pleasant.  
  
Erik became angry with himself. How could he be thinking of something like that when Michelle was so distressed? He shouldn't be thinking of that at all.  
  
Erik shook off his improper thoughts. "Now," he said, kneeling in front of her, "tell me about this dream."  
  
Michelle wanted to lie, to say she didn't remember or that it was nothing, like she told everybody else. But when she looked at him, she found she couldn't. Erik was letting her see a different part of him, even though he didn't seem to realize it. And he was looking at her with more concern than anyone had ever felt for her. She took a deep breath and began.  
  
"Ten years ago, when I turned thirteen, I started having this dream." Michelle glanced at Erik. He was listening intently. She continued. "It was always the same: I'm walking through a crypt, go to a coffin, and look inside." She paused.  
  
"Is there anyone in the coffin?" Erik urged.  
  
"Yes." Michelle closed her eyes, wishing she could forget this part. "It's a man. A man with dark hair and cold gray eyes. I'm sure he's dead. I don't know why, I just am." She took another fortifying breath and continued. " I look at him, and he opens his eyes and grabs my arm." Her voice broke. "He says that I'll be his. I think he means he wants to kill me."  
  
Erik stood and sat beside her, pulling her into his arms. "Do you know him?" he asked.  
  
Michelle shook her head against his chest. "No. I've never seen him before. Except in the dream.  
  
"I-I've never told this to anyone."  
  
"Never?"  
  
She shook her head again. "Not for years. I did, when the dreams first started. I hoped they would stop if someone knew. I dreamed every night. People thought I was crazy. They told me so."  
  
Erik stiffened. How could anyone say that to someone they loved? "What did you do?"  
  
Michelle sniffled again. "Eventually, I stopped screaming." She looked up at Erik. "Do you think I'm crazy, too?"  
  
Erik's heart contracted at the hurt he saw in her eyes. He smiled grimly. "No. I've been insane. You aren't anywhere near crazy."  
  
Michelle's eyes softened and she smiled. "Thank you." She laid her head back on his chest, and she sat there in Erik's arms for what could have been hours or just a few moments.  
  
Erik knew he should let her go, but he held her anyway, for just a little longer. Finally, Erik sat back and away from her. "Do you fell better now? Think you can sleep?"  
  
Michelle nodded and gave him a weak smile. She wished he would go on holding her. She felt safe in his arm, like the horrors of the night couldn't reach her there.  
  
Erik stood and pulled the covers around Michelle. *If she doesn't stop looking at me like that, I may just climb in with her.*  
  
He turned off the lamp and began to leave. But when he was about to close the door, Michelle stopped him. "Erik?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Is that why you wear the mask? The.the thing on your face?"  
  
Erik's hand flew to the right side of his face. where his mask wasn't.  
  
"It's not really that bad, you know," she continued sleepily. "You don't have to wear it all the time. G'nite." Michelle drifted off to sleep. 


	5. Chapter 4: The Morning After

Disclaimer: Haven't we gone through this already?  
  
Guardian Angel  
  
The next morning, Erik stood in front of a mirror that he ... borrowed from the opera prop room. It was covered with a sheet he had yet to remove. What if everyone was right? What if I am a horrific monster? Does the opinion of one person outweigh those of the entire world?  
  
Erik thought about how Michelle looked last night. She had been terrified, so scared that a strong wind would have sent her screaming into insanity. But she had looked at him unafraid. It had never seemed to occur to her to be afraid.  
  
*It's not really that bad* she had said. Erik took a deep breath and removed the sheet from the mirror and, for the first time in his life, really looked at himself. Instead of seeing the hideous monster he had always seen before, Erik saw a man. An almost regular man with a deformity that really wasn't all that bad. The right side of his face looked as though it had been scratched up by a large cat and hadn't entirely healed, but it wasn't hideous at all.  
  
Erik blinked away the unexpected tears he felt burning at the backs of his eyes.  
  
He stepped out of his room and heard Michelle singing softly. Erik's fears returned with avengance. *What if she was too tired to really see me?* he wondered. *What if she screams when she sees me, like everyone else?* Erik force the thoughts aside. Michelle wasn't like everyone else. She was special. She might even care about him, just the tiniest bit? Was that asking for too much, that she should care about him? Erik pushed that thought away as well.  
  
At the door to the kitchen, Erik paused, his heart pounding. *I can do this. She's not like everyone else.* He took a deep, fortifying breath and entered the kitchen.  
  
Michelle was rolling out dough of some sort. There was a sweet warm smell in the air. Erik swallowed. "Good morning, Miss Michelle."  
  
Michelle tossed her hair, today in one braid that went down to the middle of her back, over her shoulder and looked up at him. She stopped rolling the dough and her eyes widened in surprise. *Oh, please God* Erik prayed *Please don't let her be afraid.*  
  
The Almighty seemed to be with him today, because a huge smile appeared on her beautiful face. "Good morning to you, too, Sir," she said in a softer tone than she usually used. She wiped her flour-dusted hands on the apron she had tied around her trim waist and walked around the table she had been working at to stand in front of Erik. She studied his naked face, her eyes roaming over it like a caress. Then, she lifted her hand and touched his face. Her hand was warm and soft, despite the work she was always doing. Erik held his breath. His heart was pounding again, but not with fear or anxiety this time. Desire? Yes. Erik finally admitted what he had been ignoring for weeks, maybe months. He wanted Michelle. He wanted her more than he ever wanted anyone or anything in his entire life. He wanted her with a depth and intensity that scared him half to death. And the fact that she might return some of his feelings made it almost impossible to bear.  
  
After an eternal moment, she brought her hand back down to her side. Her eyes lowered shyly for a second, and then she returned to the other side of the table to expertly cut the dough with various cookie cutters Erik assumed she had brought with her. At least he would have, assumed, that is, if he had been able to think clearly. At the moment, his mind was too cloudy with desire (he couldn't call it lust) to think anything.  
  
After a moment, Erik asked, "Have I missed breakfast?"  
  
Michelle looked up from placing the dough, now in flat shapes, on a cookie sheet. She grinned at him. "Actually, Beeping Sleauty, you've missed lunch, too."  
  
Erik blinked. How long had he been in his room?  
  
Michelle must have mistaken his silence for disappointment about missing a meal, for she started ushering him out the door saying, "Go play your piano. Maybe if you're good, I'll make you a sandwich."  
  
Erik looked over his shoulder t her. "What about the cookies?"  
  
"You can have some of those after you clean your room. Now go. Get lost."  
  
Chuckling, Erik walked out of the kitchen...  
  
And right into Viscount Raoul de Chagney. 


	6. Chapter 5: What Are You Doing Here?

Disclaimer: You know it. I know it. Please don't make me repeat it.  
  
Guardian Angel  
  
They stood stunned, staring at each other, Raoul in his impeccable finery, Erik in his everyday wear, except for his mask. That was how Michelle found them when she left the kitchen.  
  
"Erik, I have your...lunch?"  
  
She watched the two men stare. Michelle glanced quickly at each of their faces, gauging their moods. Fortunately, all she saw was surprise. The reasons were obvious: Raoul was down here, in Erik's lair, and Erik wasn't wearing his mask. Anyone would be shocked at that, especially if they knew Erik, which she knew Raoul did.  
  
"Why, Raoul! What a surprise!" she said, finally catching the men's attention. "What brings you down here?"  
  
Raoul, now doubly surprised, exclaimed, "Michelle?! What on earth are you doing down here?!" just as Erik asked, "You know him?" They glared at each other again.  
  
Michelle sighed, knowing she would probably have to play peacemaker soon. "Yes, Erik. I do know Raoul. His father and my mother were, um, friends. Raoul, I'm staying with Erik until those criminals are apprehended."  
  
Raoul's eyes widened. "Criminals?"  
  
"Yes, criminals," Michelle said testily. "You know what I'm talking about. I know you do."  
  
"Well... yes, but... with HIM?" Raoul indicated Erik who had been watching the exchange with acute interest up till now. Now he was mad.  
  
"Why not?" he said in a low, cool voice that promised trouble.  
  
Raoul practically snorted, "Well, for starters, you're a murderer." Erik stiffened. "For another, you seem to be too busy lolly-gagging around to be much protection to anyone. And, for the third, how do I know you haven't RAPED her?"  
  
Erik grabbed Raoul's lapels and slammed him into the wall, his face contorted with rage. *Okay* Michelle thought. *Time to nip this in the proverbial bud.*  
  
She stepped forward just as Erik slammed Raoul back a second time. "Alright now. That's enough," she said adopting her best angry schoolteacher tone. Erik pulled Raoul back for another slam, but Michelle grabbed his arm. "I said that's enough!"  
  
Erik dropped the Vicomte and turned to her, the anguish in his eyes stopping her breath. He looked down and let out a breath. "I'm sorry, Michelle. But...the things he said..." He looked into her eyes. "I would never hurt you. You know that, don't you?" Erik knew he looked and sounded pathetic, but he didn't care as long as she wouldn't push him away.  
  
She didn't. She smiled at him and placed her hand on his face. "I know. You wouldn't hurt me."  
  
He covered her hand with his own. "What he said was true," Erik said glancing at Raoul who was getting off the floor after catching his breath. "Not about the raping thing. But the killing..." Erik looked at Michelle again. "I did killed people. Not all that long ago."  
  
Michelle put her other hand on his arm. "Did they deserve it?" she asked.  
  
Erik unconsciously put his hand on her waist. His voice was thick with regret. "No. They really didn't."  
  
Michelle moved her hand from his cheek to his chin. Erik lifted his eyes to meet hers, only inches away. He was afraid he would see disgust or anger or, worst of all, fear in her eyes, but all he saw was compassion. She smiled softly and said, "Then at least you realize that now."  
  
Erik was going to kiss her. He knew it. She knew it. It was inevitable. Had been probably since the first day they met. Erik leaned forward, closing the gap between his lips and hers. Her eyes drifted closed. The cool air did nothing to dispel the heat building inside of him. The sound of Raoul clearing his throat in the background doing nothing to...  
  
Raoul?! They jumped apart as if they had been burned, and maybe they had. Blushing guiltily, Michelle looked at Raoul. Raoul was looking like an older brother that had caught his sister in the gazebo with the local rake.  
  
After a moment, Michelle regained her composure. "Now," she said, "I want you two to apologize to one another."  
  
Raoul looked at her sharply. "Apologize? For what?"  
  
Michelle gave a long-suffering sigh. "You need to apologize to Erik for saying those awful things. Erik? You need to apologize for slamming Raoul into the wall. Well, go ahead. Apologize and shake hands."  
  
Raoul and Michelle had a staring contest for a few seconds. Michelle won. Raoul sighed and stuck out his hand toward Erik. "I'm sorry I accused you pf those things," he said, "even if they are true."  
  
Erik glanced at Michelle, then decided it would be of no use to argue. "I'm sorry I slammed you into the wall," he said. "I hope you can get the wrinkles out of your clothes."  
  
They shook hands and let go as if the other had yellow fever. Michelle rolled her eyes. At least they were pretending to get along. It was a start.  
  
"Okay Raoul. I told you why I'm down here. It's your turn to explain."  
  
Raoul muttered, "He told me you were here."  
  
That caught Erik's attention. "He who?"  
  
"Nadir, of course." He looked at Michelle. "I asked him where you were, but I didn't believe you were here."  
  
Erik became indignant. "Why not?"  
  
"Oh, no. No, no, no. We've been through this already." Michelle brought them back to the subject at hand. "Answer my question. What are you doing here?"  
  
Raoul brushed a few strands of blonde hair out of his eyes. "Christine's gone. She wrote me a note and left."  
  
"Why would you think she'd come here?"  
  
Raoul threw his arms in the air. "I don't know! The note said she wanted to talk to you." He pointed at Michelle. "I figured Nadir would have told her the same thing he told me and she'd come here." His shoulders sagged. "Why would she leave me?"  
  
Erik opened his mouth for what would no doubt have been a not nice retort, then closed it when Michelle said, "Shh!"  
  
She was standing almost completely still with her head cocked. Raoul started to ask, "What is-?"  
  
"Quiet," Michelle hissed. "I hear something." Erik and Raoul listened, and sure enough, they heard something. Footsteps and voices. Female voices. Michelle suddenly smiled and relaxed. She motioned for the men to follow and be quiet. She slipped into the room by the lake, parlor, she called it, and hid in the shadows next to the entrance to the labyrinth. She motioned for the men to hide as well. Erik slipped into some other shadows, tugging a reluctant and confused Vicomte after him. After a few moments, the trio clearly heard some familiar chattering.  
  
"Oh, why did I let you talk me into coming here? It's so dark and creepy."  
  
"Don't worry. He assured me she is here, and he wouldn't lie."  
  
"How can you be so sure?"  
  
Out of the darkness came two women in dark cloaks with the hoods pulled up, hiding their faces. They crept in, not even noticing Michelle when she slipped behind them. She snuck forward and yelled, "BOO!"  
  
The two women screamed and spun around, their hoods falling to reveal a blonde head and a brunette one. Michelle grinned. "Hello, ladies."  
  
The duo laughed and hugged Michelle chattering excitedly. When the greetings were through, Michelle turned to Erik and Raoul who had stepped out of the shadows. "It's okay gentlemen. I think you know these intruders."  
  
The "intruders" were actually...Christine Daae and Meg Giry?  
  
"What are you doing down here?!" Erik and Raoul shouted at the same time.  
  
Meg was gaping at Erik, still without his mask, and Christine was looking at Raoul guiltily, so Michelle explained. "Well," she began, "As Raoul deduced, Christine did go to Nadir to find where I had been hidden. Naturally, he told her exactly where I could be found. Being a little worried about Erik's reaction, she brought along Meg. Strength in numbers and all that. The only remaining questions are why Christine wishes to speak with me, and who else has the estimable daroga told?"  
  
Erik stared at Michelle. "How did you come up with all of that?"  
  
Michelle grinned at him. "Part of it was from what Raoul told us, part from what we overheard, and the rest Christine told me herself."  
  
Erik nodded. "Do you really think he told other people?"  
  
"Told other people what?"  
  
Everyone turned to the new voice. Nadir climbed out of the boat, pulling a wooden chest after him. Michelle raised her eyebrows. "Nadir. This is a surprise. Is anyone else to be joining us?"  
  
Nadir smiled fondly and replied, "I'm glad you haven't lost your perky sense of humor."  
  
"I'll take that as a no," Michelle said dryly. "Very well. I hate to sound cliché, but what are you doing here?"  
  
"I came to make sure the two of you haven't killed each other yet. And I come bearing gifts." He opened the chest to reveal a set of China with pink roses and blue pansies around the rims and edges. Michelle squealed, "My China!" in delight and threw her arms around Nadir's neck. Erik felt an unfamiliar sensation-jealousy? - and tried to think of something that would make her react that way to him.  
  
Michelle took the chest and turned back to the group. "Since everyone seems to be here, why don't we adjourn to the dinning room for hot chocolate and cookies?"  
  
She turned and led the way. Everyone followed. "I'll be back in a few minutes," she said as she entered the kitchen.  
  
Everyone else stood around the long table, obviously uncomfortable, but none more so than Erik. He finally broke the silence. "Please, everyone. Have a seat. I'll...help with refreshments." Erik left the dinning room and went to his bedroom, where he had left his mask. *The Opera Ghost returns,* he thought. *And just when he felt he was becoming a man.* He left his room and went to the kitchen to help Michelle.  
  
Michelle adjusted the still-warm sugar cookies on a plate from her box of China. The small hearts and music notes smelled delicious. Satisfied with the arrangement, she looked for a pot in which to heat the milk for the chocolate. She was on her knees with her head in a bottom cupboard when she heard someone come in. She turned, pot in hand, to see who it was. "Erik. So good of you to assist me." Erik nodded and helped her to her feet. That was when she noticed he was wearing his mask.  
  
He must have seen the question in her eyes because he said, "I still need this. The others don't like my face."  
  
Michelle frowned. "How do you know that?"  
  
Erik's laugh held no humor. "You saw the way they looked at me. Like I'm a freak. They're probably right." He turned away and picked up the plate of cookies. "I'll deliver these to our guests."  
  
Michelle knew what was happening. Erik's insecurities and old hurts had returned with the appearance of people from his past. He put on a mask and put up a wall between Michelle and himself, their earlier intimacy forgotten in a blast from the past. Well, he had tried to build a wall between them the first day she came here, and she had knocked it down with only a few words over breakfast. And she would knock this one down, too, or her name wasn't Michelle Rosella Winterbrook.  
  
"Erik," she said. He turned around. She took a breath, unsure how to begin. "Erik," she repeated, then picked up a small cookie from the plate and held it up. "What do you see here?" she asked.  
  
It was a small heart-shaped cookie. "I see a cookie," Erik said in monotone.  
  
"Is it okay to eat?" she asked.  
  
Erik was getting suspicious. "Yes," he said warily.  
  
Michelle broke the cookie in half. "Now what do you see?"  
  
"A broken cookie."  
  
"Is it still edible?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Michelle nodded. "Exactly. The point of this demonstration is that a broken cookie isn't ruined. It doesn't have to be put on a shelf for the bugs or thrown away. A broken cookie," she paused to put half the cookie in Erik's mouth, "is just easier to share." She slipped the other half into her own mouth.  
  
Erik was silent for a moment, then his eyes softened and he smiled slightly. "Thank you," he said.  
  
Michelle felt something tighten in her chest. There was so much said in those two little words. "Hey," she replied, "What are friends for? Now take these cookies out of here before I eat them all."  
  
Erik turned to leave. He paused at the door to look at her one more time, then went into the dinning room. *Just as I thought,* Michelle mused as she set the milk on the stove to warm. *That was about as hard as cutting soft butter with a hot knife.* 


	7. Chapter 6: I really don't know what to n...

Disclaimer: I don't own...Ah, heck. You know.  
  
Guardian Angel  
  
Erik set the plate of cookies on the dinning room table. "Did Michelle make those?" Meg asked.  
  
Erik glanced at her. "I don't cook." Immediately, everyone reached for a cookie.  
  
Erik sat at the head of the table, appropriate since it was his. On his right sat Nadir, also appropriate since he was Erik's only friend, except perhaps Michelle. Next to Nadir sat Raoul. Across from him was Meg. Christine sat next to Meg leaving an empty space on Erik's left. Everyone, except Erik, munched on the cookies. Finally, just to avoid having to speak, Erik took one, too. They were very good. Erik thought about what Michelle had said earlier. *A broken heart is just easier too share.* What did she mean by that? Easier to share his problems and hurts with a friend? Or easier to give his love to someone else?  
  
He looked over at Christine. She still had Raoul's ring on her finger. Erik waited for the torturous pain he felt when he thought about them to come over him. All he felt was his stomach growl. He was very hungry.  
  
Erik bit into a music note just as Michelle swept into the room ladened with a tray holding cups, saucers, and a teapot from her China. Erik instinctively rose to assist her. "Sit down, Erik," she scolded lightly. Erik sat. She set the tray in the empty space on Erik's left and started serving the chocolate.  
  
When everyone had a cup filled almost to the brim, Michelle broke the uncomfortable silence. "Nadir? I've lost track of the days."  
  
"I'm not surprised," Raoul muttered into his cup. Meg a little, as though she kicked something. Raoul winced, showing that she had.  
  
Michelle's lips twitched as she watched the Vicomte and the ballerina exchange discreet glares. Then she continued to Nadir. "Pray tell, what day is it?"  
  
Nadir thought a moment. "Let's see. Today would be November 23rd."  
  
Michelle choked on her cookie. "What?! You mean there's only one month left before Christmas?!"  
  
"Yes," Nadir said. "But don't worry. You'll probably have something grand organized by tomorrow."  
  
"You bet I will," she said.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Nadir watched Michelle's face. Her expression said that she was indeed planning something for Christmas at that moment. He glanced at Erik and hid a smirk behind his cup. *Poor Erik. He won't know what hit him.* Erik deserved a little happiness after all the misery he had been put through. Fortunately, Michelle was just the person to give it to him. Nadir hoped that no one would discover he had turned his attention to matchmaking. Nadir's gaze drifted over the others at the table and came to rest on Miss Daae. Tall, yet petite, she resembled a porcelain doll with her perfect completion and bright blonde hair. Nadir didn't believe she had meant to hurt Erik. In the times Nadir had been around her, he noticed a naivety and innocence in her gaze. Her father had no doubt pampered her, protected her from the world. She obviously wasn't sure how to handle the problems of the Opera. She needed someone to take care of her. Nadir glance at Raoul. *I wonder if the Vicomte is up to it.* He studied the young noble and wasn't sure that he was. Raoul had been given everything he wanted for his entire life. Oh, he was a good man, no doubt of that, but he needed someone to challenge him, someone who wouldn't fall at his feet and give him anything in the world.  
  
Unfortunately, there seemed to be no prospects for such a person.  
  
Nadir's gaze moved back to Michelle as she stood and announced that she needed some paper and left to find some, ignoring Erik's demand that she stay away from his music sheets. *I'll leave the Vicomte's love life to her,* he thought.*After all, she's more experienced in this sort of thing than I am. She's even Raoul's-*  
  
"NADIR!"  
  
He jumped and looked at Michelle. He hadn't even noticed she had returned. She looked agitated; she had one hand on her hip and was waving a sheet of paper covered in scribbles back and forth. She probably had been trying to get his attention for a while. "Why don't we go to the parlor?" she said to everyone. "I'm sure Nadir wants to report how things are progressing." Nadir looked confused. "In the case of the murderers?" she added.  
  
Nadir sat up. "Yes. Yes, of course." Once again, Michelle led the way, followed by everyone else. *We both know that's not all I have to report,*Nadir thought, then glanced at Erik. *I just hope she doesn't let anything slip.*  
  
* * * * *  
  
In the parlor, Raoul sat in Erik's favorite chair, the one with the trap door, Meg and Christine sat on the chaise (those two we inseparable), and Erik leaned against the wall and watched Michelle and Nadir standing on the other side of the room and talking.  
  
"How are Mama and Papa?" Michelle asked immediately.  
  
Nadir smiled at her excitement. "They're fine. They had hoped that you'd be home for Christmas, though."  
  
Michelle smiled sadly. "Yes. This will be the first Christmas we haven't spent together."  
  
Nadir nodded sympathetically. Then Michelle finally asked the question she had been wondering about for months. "Nadir, why can't I tell Erik who I really am?"  
  
Nadir looked behind him and, satisfied that Erik hadn't heard, said, "I have my reasons."  
  
Michelle narrowed her eyes. "Then why don't you share them? I don't like lying to Erik."  
  
"You're not lying," he assured her. "You're just...not mentioning it."  
  
"Same thing," she snapped. When she realized he wasn't going to budge, Michelle let out a sigh. "Fine. We'll do this your way. But I do want to tell him eventually. Erik's my friend." She thought about last night and how Erik had come running when she screamed. "Maybe even my best friend.  
  
"In the meantime," she continued handing Nadir the sheet of paper she held, "Bring me everything on this list by the end of the week. Except for those which are underlined. Bring those on Christmas Eve." Then she added, "Please."  
  
Nadir studied the list, then raised his eyebrows. "How am I supposed to get this," he pointed to an underlined item, "down here without Erik noticing? He isn't supposed to notice, correct?"  
  
"Correct," Michelle answered. "I'll take care of that when I have to. You just do as I ask. If you please."  
  
Michelle turned and walked over to Erik. "Erik, would you mind escorting Nadir and the Vicomte out. Then, shouldn't you be terrorizing the opera staff or something?"  
  
Erik raised an eyebrow. "Why?"  
  
Michelle realized how rude she had been and smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I still haven't had a chance to speak with Christine, and I don't think she wants a bunch of men around listening or we'd have already spoken."  
  
Erik sighed and pushed himself off the wall. "Very well. Come along, Daroga, Fop. Let's leave the ladies to their talking." He ushered a hesitant Raoul and a passive Nadir out the door leading to the labyrinth. He turned back to Michelle. "I'll be back in two hours," he said, then left.  
  
Michelle shook her head at the empty doorway, then turned to the two remaining guests. "I'll make more chocolate and you can tell me why you're here. Let's go to the kitchen."  
  
This time, Meg led the way. Michelle decided to hurry with the chocolate. She had a feeling she was going to need it. 


	8. Chapter 7: The Conversation

Disclaimer: This is getting so old, but I DON'T OWN ANYTHING!!!!! LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!  
  
Author's Note: I'm using poetic license on the characters' ages.  
  
Guardian Angel  
  
When the chocolate had been prepared, Michelle joined Meg and Christine around the kitchen table.  
  
"He wasn't wearing the mask," Meg said. "Why wasn't he wearing the mask?"  
  
Michelle raised her eyebrows. "You didn't seem too bothered by it."  
  
Meg blushed. "Well... it's just that...he didn't look..."  
  
"He doesn't look as bad as he did before," Christine commented. "Almost like... well, not so bad. Maybe because he's healthier."  
  
Michelle grinned. "You mean fatter. Yes, my cooking does do that to a person. Especially four months of it. Do you think it was the thinness that made him so...whatever he was then?"  
  
"Ugly?" Christine shrugged. "Maybe."  
  
Michelle took a sip of her chocolate then changed the subject. She didn't like hearing anyone refer to Erik as ugly. "Maybe you should tell me why you wanted to see me. It must have been important."  
  
Christine sighed and set down her cup. "It's... well, Raoul and I..."  
  
"Yes," Michelle urged.  
  
""Well, Raoul and I..."  
  
Meg snorted. "She's having trouble with the fop."  
  
Michelle and Christine stared at Meg, surprised by her venomous tone. She continued, "But then, what do you expect from a nobleman?" She practically sneered the word.  
  
Michelle stared a moment longer. "We'll get back to that later." She turned back to Christine. "Now, what sort of problems?"  
  
Christine fiddled with her napkin. "Not problems, exactly. I've just been having some doubts. I mean, Raoul is my best friend." Meg snorted again. "I'm just not sure I can really think of him as more than a friend. Do you understand?"  
  
Michelle nodded. "I understand perfectly." Luckily, matters of the heart were a specialty of hers, another being matchmaking. Father said half the happy couples in England had met through her. But considering how few happy couples there were in England...  
  
"I'd suggest spending some time apart," Michelle said. "You should travel. Visit the places you and Raoul went together. Visit your father's grave. Maybe it will remind you of how much you love him. Or why you two should never be together."  
  
Christine thought a moment about this, then smiled. "That's a wonderful idea. I'll leave as soon as were finished performing 'Faust'. Thank you, Michelle."  
  
Michelle smiled back. "I'm happy to help."  
  
Christine continued as if they were still discussing her problem. "It's just that I always pictured myself married to someone more like my father."  
  
Michelle froze. "You mean...older?"  
  
"Yes," Christine gasped and continued chattering.  
  
But Michelle wasn't listening. Her stomach had twisted itself into a painful knot. Was Christine thinking of coming back to Erik? Michelle knew now that it was Christine whom Erik had loved and lost. She wouldn't want him now, would she?  
  
*And why should you care? * a voice in her head taunted. *That would be just the sort of happy ending you've always wanted to provide.*  
  
*Maybe I'm tired of providing,* she thought back. *Maybe I want one for myself.*  
  
*With Erik?*  
  
Michelle pushed the thought away. She would think about it later, but not now. Not now.  
  
She turned her attention back to Christine, who had paused for a breath, then broke in. "Meg? Why don't you tell us about your little problem now?"  
  
Christine looked a little put out about being interrupted, but said, "Yes, Meg. It's your turn."  
  
Meg stared at them as though they had lost their minds. "What problem?"  
  
"Why you don't like Raoul," Michelle explained. "Or rather noblemen in general."  
  
Realization dawned on her face. Then she sighed and began. "Ever since I turned eighteen, the rich patrons have been asking for my...services."  
  
Christine looked slightly surprised. Michelle looked disgusted with the entire male population.  
  
Meg continued. "Well, lately they've been getting more forward and...and... uncouth." She sighed again. "All in all, I don't have a very high opinion of, quote, unquote, 'gentlemen'."  
  
Michelle nodded understandingly, then smirked. "What you need is to meet a gentleman that treats you like a lady instead of a wh-." She glanced at Christine. "A whole lot worse than he should," she finished.  
  
Meg laughed. "If I ever met a rich man that treated me like a lady, I'd run off and marry him."  
  
Michelle grinned, an idea forming in her head. "I wouldn't have it any other way." 


	9. Chapter 8: Erik's Vow

Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, yeah, we know the drill.  
  
Guardian Angel  
  
Erik wandered through the passages of the opera. Michelle was right. He did need to frighten the staff a little. And put some things in perspective.  
  
He had to end this silly little attraction to Michelle immediately. They were friends, that was all. That was all it could be. All he would let it be. Seeing Christine again had reminded him that love was pain, pure and simple. He could love Michelle if he let himself; it would be easy. But he wouldn't. Couldn't. If he loved her, when she left- and she would leave- it would be so much worse than with Christine because Michelle might have cared for him. Perhaps he hadn't really loved Christine, but losing her had been almost unbearable. Losing Michelle would kill him, slowly but surely.  
  
No, he would never risk his heart again. He wouldn't love, wouldn't trust. Wouldn't care. He would, however, show her the real Phantom. Uncaring, perhaps cruel. He would keep her an arms length away. If he didn't, he would fall in love with her.  
  
Love her and die. 


	10. Chapter 9: A Phantom Heartache

Disclaimer: ..........  
  
Guardian Angel  
  
Michelle chatted a while longer with Christine and Meg, but soon they had to go back for rehearsal and, in Christine's case, make plans to leave. So she was alone when Erik returned.  
  
She had already cleaned and put away her China, so she found a book to read while she waited for Nadir to return with her things. Erik came in and was headed straight for his room. Michelle looked up and smiled at him. "Welcome back," she said.  
  
Erik sopped abruptly and turned to look at her. Actually, 'glared' would be more appropriate. Michelle was taken aback. Was he angry? "I'm sorry I was so pushy earlier. It's just that sometimes when I get an idea, I push and shove until I get it done." She smiled apologetically. "Forgive me?"  
  
Erik answered in a cool, hard voice. "Someday, little girl," he said, "you will learn that you don't always get what you want." With that, he turned, entered his room, and shut the door. Loudly. The echo resounded off the walls like a death knell.  
  
Michelle sat stunned, staring at the door. What was that all about? She knew she had been rude, but she hadn't been that rude, had she? Of course not.  
  
It was so quiet. Like a cemetery in front of an old, abandoned church. Not peaceful. Just ...dead. Dead silence. Michelle shivered. How was it that she never noticed how dark and cold and empty this place was? She chewed on her bottom lip. Erik was angry with her for some reason. And it didn't seem as though she'd be finding out any time soon. But without knowing, how could she save this friendship?  
  
Or was it already doomed?  
  
* * * * *  
  
Erik stayed in his room for the rest of the day. Nadir had come and gone, leaving the yarn, fabric, and other things he had brought, but Erik hadn't even stepped out to see his friend.  
  
Michelle had cut the fabric Nadir had brought, and then started dinner. She prepared ginger baked chicken and greens, one of Erik's favorites. She brought a tray to his door and knocked. "Erik?" she said meekly. "I've brought your dinner. Ginger chicken. Your favorite."  
  
There was a long moment of silence, then Erik answered from behind the door, "No, thank you."  
  
Erik never missed a chance to eat ginger chicken. *He must really be angry with me,* she thought. Hurt, she placed the tray on a small table next to Erik's door and left, head down and heavy-hearted, to eat her own dinner at an empty table.  
  
When she had finished her meal, she went to try to convince Erik to eat. But when she got there, she saw the tray exactly where she had left it, only devoid of food. Knowing Erik still enjoyed her cooking but not her company somehow hurt more then thinking that he didn't want either. She took the tray and returned to the kitchen, completely ignoring the tears running down her face. 


	11. Chapter 10: Broken Vow

Disclaimer: You don't honestly think I own this, do you? Didn't think so.  
  
Guardian Angel  
  
Erik successfully avoided Michelle for about two weeks. Michelle cooked the meals and left some at Erik's door, then came back to collect the empty tray. She finished the housework in half her usual time, but then, she didn't have Erik to bicker with or get in hetr way. After a few Erik-less days, she simply ingnored the pain of not seeing him. The only time she felt somewhat happy was in the solace of her room where she secretly worked on her Christmas gifts for Erik. Then, she allowed herself to feel a tiny shred of hope that he would soon forgive her, that they could be friends again.  
  
The urge she had to make things right, to see Erik again, was so strong it was almost frightening. Michelle knew what was happening. She was falling in love with Erik. She knew it and it frightened her--after all, he still didn't know her true identity; he might even hate her when he found out-and yet she reveled in the feeling. Her only true fear was that Erik could never love her back.  
  
* * * * *  
  
On the tenth of December, only two weeks before Christmas Eve, Erik awoke from his sleep. He didn't move, he just lay there. He should still be tired after spending all night out as he had several previous nights. While Michelle slept, Erik would wander around Paris just to keep himself from doing something stupid, like going to her room and asking her to stay forever. So much for ending the attraction.  
  
Erik's thoughts were interrupted when he heard a loud series of coughs from somewhere outside his room, followed by someone blowing their nose and grumbling something about getting sick.  
  
Sick?  
  
Before he could stop himself, Erik was out the door and standing in front of a very surprised, and ill, Michelle. "Erik?" she said. "What are you doing--?"  
  
"Quiet," he ordered and checked her forehead for a fever. She didn't seem to have one, but her pale face and red nose told its own story.  
  
Frowning, Erik asked, "How long have you had that cough?"  
  
"Just a few days," she answered. "But--"  
  
"A few DAYS?!" Before she could answer, Erik was dragging her back to her room. "Get into bed," he ordered. "And stay there."  
  
"But...I have to get breakfast."  
  
"I'll get breakfast. You're sick. You're staying in bed."  
  
She sat down on the bed. "I thought you couldn't cook."  
  
Erik looked at her from the doorway. "I've lived down here for almost twenty years. If I couldn't cook, I'd have starved already."  
  
That was logical. Nevertheless, Michelle had to protest. "There is no reason for me to stay in bed. I'm fine. Really I am." She stood up, and then waves of nausea and dizziness overtook her. She collapsed on the bed and put her head between her legs breathing deeply until the sick feelings had past. When she looked up, Erik had an insulate smirk on his face. Reluctantly, Michelle slipped back under the covers and said in a petulant voice, "I suppose a day or two of rest won't do any harm."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Meg Giry slipped into her costume. "Faust" had been showing for a week now, and the managers had planed something special for Christmas. While the singers were off work for Christmas, the dancers would put on a production of "The Nutcracker". Meg was even the understudy for Marie, the lead role.  
  
Having successfully gotten into her outfit, Meg looked around the dressing room that used to be Christine's. She had been reluctant to switch, but Christine had insisted. "Raoul will look for me there," she had said. "He doesn't even know where your dressing room is." That was true enough. So here she was, nervously awaiting an annoying Vicomte that was sure to arrive at any moment.  
  
As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. "Christine?" the Vicomte's voice called. "Are you dressed?"  
  
"Yes," Meg answered. "Only I'm not--"  
  
The door opened and Raoul de Chagny walked in.  
  
"-Christine," Meg finished.  
  
Raoul stared at her for a moment. Then, with all the arrogance of someone who always gets their way, demanded, "Where is Christine?"  
  
Meg raised her chin. If this man thought she would cower before him just because he had a title, he needed to think again. "We traded dressing rooms. Christine didn't want you to bother her before she leaves." Realizing what she had said, Meg threw a hand over her mouth.  
  
Raoul was taken aback. "Leave?! Where is she going?"  
  
*Curse my loose tongue,* Meg thought. "I'm not going to say. She doesn't want you to know."  
  
Raoul glared at her. "Fine." He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. "How much will it take to get the information?"  
  
Meg grew livid. "You can't buy everything you know. And you most certainly can't pay me enough to betray my best friend."  
  
Raoul stood there, cool and composed. *Like I'll believe that,* he thought. *She's probably angling for more money.* "How much?" he repeated.  
  
That was the final straw. "I told you I won't tell. Now get out of here before I have you thrown out."  
  
Raoul removed his hand from his jacket. "You really mean that, don't you?"  
  
Meg fumed. "Of course I do."  
  
He was stunned. Usually all these ballerinas cared about was getting money from patrons like him. He half expected her to offer herself for his mistress, much like that Marie he'd come across in the hall. Such blatant behavior was disgusting, like she had no self respect at all. This Meg, however, didn't seem to even like him. How unusual.  
  
"Very well. I will not try to discover Christine's whereabouts. I assume the two of you will keep in contact?" Meg nodded. "Then I will come to you everyday for news about Christine." He performed an elegant half-bow. "Until tomorrow, Mademoiselle Giry." He turned to leave, then Meg said to his retreating back, "Why do you care what Christine does?"  
  
Raoul stopped and looked over his shoulder. "She's my fiancée. Draw your own conclusions." He left, closing the door behind him.  
  
Meg watched him go, her mind reeling. He really did care about Christine. Of course, he didn't really seem to love her. More like he wanted to keep track of what was his, like a toy or something. Not very surprising. Not at all. And as for news about Christine, Meg would have to talk to her first. If she didn't mind, then the Vicomte would get his news. If not, he would come for nothing more than his own torment. And it would be torment. She would see to that. 


	12. Chapter 11: I don't know what to name th...

Disclaimer: .......  
  
Guardian Angel  
  
Meg wasn't able to talk to Christine until the next day. She and the other dancers were stretching before practice; Christine was only there to watch as she would be leaving soon.  
  
"So, when are you leaving?" Meg asked stretching her leg.  
  
"On the twenty-second," Christine answered. "I'm going to spend Christmas with Papa."  
  
Meg looked up. "That sounds depressing. Mama was hoping you would come to our house for Christmas."  
  
Christine shrugged. "I'll be back by New Year's Eve. I can come over then."  
  
Meg shrugged, too. Mama would be disappointed, but if she wanted to spend Christmas in a cemetery, Meg wouldn't try to stop her. Instead, she brought up what was really on her mind.  
  
"Your fiancée showed up yesterday, just as you said he would."  
  
Christine looked up, alarmed. "Raoul? Did you tell him where I am staying? Or where I'm going?"  
  
Meg looked at her guiltily. "Well, I did let it slip that you were leaving. But I didn't tell him where. And he wants me to tell him how you are, since you won't tell him yourself."  
  
Christine thought a moment. "I suppose that wouldn't be a problem. As long as he doesn't try to come after me."  
  
Meg would have responded, but one of the other girls said, "Christine. Your Vicomte is coming."  
  
Christine stood up. "I must go. Tell him I'm doing fine. Just don't tell him where I am."  
  
Meg tried to stop her, but she was already gone. *That girl has spent too much time with the Opera Ghost. She's becoming a phantom herself.*  
  
At that moment, Raoul walked in, right past the twittering, flirting ballerinas, and straight to Meg. "Mademoiselle Giry," he said by way of greeting. "Shall we go somewhere else to speak." It wasn't a question. He led her backstage ignoring the catcalls and crude remarks of the others. Meg felt a blush creeping up her cheeks. How dare they. They knew full well that she had no interest in the Vicomte or any other man. Of course it might have help if the man in question wasn't hurrying off like he was late for a tryst.  
  
Once backstage, Meg yanked her arm out of his grasp. "You didn't have to embarrass me like that," she said.  
  
Raoul looked at her, confused. "If I did embarrass you-and I don't see how I could have-I apologize."  
  
Meg crossed her arms over her chest and said nothing. It was hard to be angry when he was so gosh darned polite. It didn't matter, though; he wasn't expecting an answer. "Now then," he said, "about Christine?"  
  
Meg resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Didn't the man think if anything except women? Probably not. "Fine," she sighed. "Christine said I could tell you how she is as long as you don't try to find her." She waited for Raoul to nod his agreement. "Christine is doing fine." Meg turned and started back to rehearsal.  
  
She didn't get very far. Raoul caught her arm before she had taken five steps. "Is that all?" he said incredulous. *What kind of an answer is that?*  
  
Meg looked at him. "What else could there be? You want to know how Christine is, and she is fine. Now may I please return to practice?" She didn't wait for an answer before leaving.  
  
Raoul waited for the anger he always seemed to feel when someone, some man, of course, was insubordinate. Michelle said it was one of his worst flaws. Oddly enough, though, he only felt intrigued. Women never talked back to him. They made life difficult in their own ways. *Except Christine,* he reminded himself. *Christine would never want to make anyone's life more complicated.* This chit, however, didn't have Christine's scruples. And even more strangely, he almost enjoyed her sassy tongue. Almost. *Who knows,* he thought. *Perhaps Mademoiselle Meg and I could become friends. Christine would like it if I didn't dislike her friends,* he added quickly in his mind. Then he wondered why he was having so much trouble thinking about what Christine would want.  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
A/N : No, Raoul isn't a cheating bastard. This is all part of a master scheme. Next chapter, ...well, who knows? 


	13. Chapter 12: Finally Well or Impending Lo...

A/N: okay, sorry this is taking so long, but there are so many things still to come. *grins evilly*  
  
Disclaimer: See first dozen chapters.  
  
Guardian Angel  
  
*One or two days,* Michelle thought as she fastened the buttons on her soft blue dress. *Boy, was I naïve.*  
  
It was now December twenty-first, more than a week since Erik had put her to bed sick. After a week she had felt better. But Erik had insisted that she remain in her room.  
  
She had long since finished her presents for Erik... and Christine, Meg, Nadir, and Raoul. They were all nicely wrapped in colored paper and tied closed with bright, festive ribbon.  
  
*Four days until Christmas and we don't even have a tree,* she thought as she tied her hair back with a ribbon. *I don't care what Erik says. I'm getting out of this room, or I may just go insane.*  
  
She checked her appearance in the mirror, nodded to herself, and left the room for the first time in days. She didn't wonder why she had taken such care with her appearance this morning. She already knew.  
  
When she arrived in the kitchen, a surprise awaited her. Erik was at the stove scrambling eggs and frying bacon. He wasn't wearing his usual attire; at least, not all of it. The trousers, shirt, and shoes were from his regular wardrobe, but the apron wasn't. Michelle hid a smile behind her hand, which was unnecessary since he hadn't noticed her presence yet. He looked...charming. That was the only word for it. There was something engaging about a man cooking for a woman. Or maybe that was just her.  
  
Erik still hadn't noticed her. Figuring she had ogled him long enough, Michelle cleared her throat. Erik spun around, eyes flashing angrily. *Lord, but he has nice eyes.*  
  
"What are you doing up?" he demanded, thankfully oblivious to her thoughts. "Go back to bed."  
  
Michelle just smiled. "Erik, I'm well. I've been well for a while now. Thank you for being such a good nursemaid, but I don't need one anymore."  
  
They stared at each other a while longer. Well, she stared, right into those amazing gold eyes; Erik glared.  
  
Erik finally let out a defeated breath. "Okay."  
  
Michelle wasn't sure she heard him right; his eyes were making her dizzy. "Okay?"  
  
"Okay. You're well. You can get out of bed."  
  
Michelle smiled sardonically. "Thank you for the invitation."  
  
Erik flinched slightly, and Michelle was immediately sorry. "I only wanted you to get better," he said.  
  
His crestfallen expression made her feel even worse. Deciding that they both needed cheering up, Michelle smiled and said, "I do feel better. Much better." Her grin turned mischievous. "Especially knowing that you've been cooking in that adorable apron."  
  
Erik looked down at himself, then yanked the neck loop off his head. Unfortunately, he had forgotten to untie the ties from around his waist. Michelle shook with barely suppressed laughter as Erik, trying to hold back a smile, and failing, removed the garment and laid it on the table.  
  
Once Michelle had gotten herself under control, she picked up the apron and started to put it on. "What are you doing?" Erik asked.  
  
"You seem to be asking me that a lot lately."  
  
Erik took hold of her hands before she could tie the apron around her waist. "Don't bother. The food is finished already."  
  
Before she could say anything, she was sitting at the table with a plate of food before her. *This seems rather familiar,* she thought. *Only backwards somehow. *  
  
In a few moments, they were eating and chatting over the meal. Then, Erik said, "I haven't asked in a long time, but have you had any more of those dreams?"  
  
Michelle's fork hesitated over her plate. Then she took the bit of egg on the utensil in her mouth. "No. At first I was so...busy during the day that I fell right asleep. Then I was sick and slept like the dead." That wasn't entirely false. In actuality, when Erik hadn't been speaking to her, she had worked herself to the bone so when she went to bed, she wouldn't have to think about him and why he was mad at her. In fact, she still didn't know.  
  
"Erik," she said in a small voice. "Why were you angry with me? Did I do something to upset you? Because if I did, I'm very sorry."  
  
Erik could see that she was. He silently cursed himself. Because of his pointless vow, which he hadn't kept anyway, he had hurt the one person who had been his true friend and confidant.  
  
"I have...reasons for acting the way I did, but it was nothing you did. I simply had to learn something for myself." That something being that no matter how little he saw of this amazing woman, the feelings that were growing inside of him were not going to fade any time soon.  
  
Michelle's face relaxed into a smile. Erik loved her smiles. They were mischievous, or compassionate, or sweet, all so full of light and life, and all so beautiful.  
  
"Hello! Is anybody here?"  
  
Erik turned from his companion's smiles and called to Nadir, "We'll be right there."  
  
Abandoning their plates and utensils, Erik and Michelle went out to meet Nadir. His eyes examined them as if he was hoping to discover what had happened in his absence. *Hmm. I half expected them to be engaged by now,* he thought. *Oh well. There's still time.*  
  
"I just came to inform you that I will be leaving soon," he said.  
  
"Leaving?" Erik asked. "Where for?"  
  
"And why?" added Michelle.  
  
Nadir suppressed a smile. They were even finishing each other's sentences. "One of the culprits in your case has been apprehended. I must go out of town and bring him back to Paris, then send him on to England to be put on trial."  
  
The underlying message became clear to Erik. "So, you mean there's only one man left?"  
  
"To be caught, yes."  
  
That meant once he was captured, Michelle would be leaving him. Back to her old life. Whatever kind of life it was that she came from. It didn't really matter.  
  
"Well," he said. "Well, well. That's...good news. You are almost out of danger, Michelle. How...wonderful."  
  
"Heh. Yes," she replied sadly. "Wonderful."  
  
Nadir glanced discreetly between those two and smiled to himself. "I'm leaving tomorrow morning, so don't expect me for Christmas."  
  
Temporarily broken out of her misery, Michelle said, "Oh, then let me get you your present."  
  
She scurried to her room leaving the two friends alone. Erik cleared his throat. "So," he said, "Will it take a long time to find the other man? I mean, it did take a while to find this one."  
  
"Well, it might be faster if the one that has been captured chooses to cooperate. He may tell us where his accomplice is, if getting out of the hangman's noose has any appeal to him."  
  
Erik nodded. He was going to lose her soon.  
  
Michelle returned just then with a package wrapped in red paper with a gold ribbon and gave it to Nadir. "Here you are. Merry Christmas."  
  
He chuckled. "Thank you. Merry Christmas to you, too.  
  
"I must be going. I still have some preparations to make before I leave."  
  
Michelle smiled. "Of course."  
  
"Oh, by the way." Nadir looked around the room. "I noticed that you don't have a tree yet. You might want to get one soon, before they are all gone."  
  
Michelle replied a little sadly, "I don't think we are having one this year."  
  
Nadir raised an eyebrow. "Indeed? Oh, well. Good bye."  
  
After Nadir had left and Michelle had returned to the kitchen to clean the dishes, Erik started thinking. Then, after a few moments, he went to his room and put on his jacket, cape, hat, and mask. He slipped out and went to the boat in the lake.  
  
"I am going out," he called to Michelle.  
  
"Okay," she called back.  
  
Erik pushed the boat away from the house and started for the opposite shore. *Now, where would one buy a Christmas tree?* 


	14. Chapter 13: Where's The Mistletoe When Y...

Disclaimer: I still don't own anything.  
  
Guardian Angel  
  
That evening, Erik stood on the bank opposite to his house and wondered how he would get all these packages across. He had left, intending to buy a tree, and he had. But then he passed a dress shop and saw an array of beautiful gowns. Michelle didn't have any gowns, and Erik did have a small fortune from investing his considerable "salary". So, he purchased a few gowns. Of course, then he had to buy some slippers to go with them. And then he saw a delicate lace fan that would be the perfect accent. By this time, the sun was almost up and people were beginning to stir. Erik had to rent a room at a hotel so he wouldn't be forced to wander around Paris in the daylight.  
  
At the end of the day, when the sun was just setting, Erik left the hotel meaning to head straight to the Opera house. But he made the mistake of looking in a store window and seeing a carved wooden jewelry case and music box. He went in, just to look at it, but ended up purchasing that, too. And then he thought, *Michelle has no jewelry to put in the box.* So he made a detour and went to a jewelry store. There, he saw a simple strand of elegant white pearls. They would look glorious around her neck. And when Erik thought he was finally finished, he saw a burgundy velvet cloak with black fur lining. He bought that, too.  
  
So here he was, standing around with a tree and a dozen brightly wrapped boxes (the stores wrapped them for the customers) trying to figure out a way to get them to the other side without Michelle seeing.  
  
Finally, Erik put the gifts in the boat, then carefully laid the tree, a few inches taller than his own six-feet, on top of those. After carefully maneuvering across the lake, fortunately without anything dropping into the lake, he checked to see where Michelle was. The smells coming from the kitchen indicated that she was making dinner, and wouldn't be out until it was finished. Erik slid the tree out of the boat and left it on the ground while he moved the packages to his room. When that was finished, he moved the tree next to the fireplace in the front room. Not too close, though; he wouldn't want it to catch on fire. Finally finished, he went to the kitchen.  
  
Michelle was happy to see him. "I was getting worried," she said looking him over. "You aren't hurt or anything, are you?"  
  
"No, of course not." Secretly, though, he was touched that she had worried.  
  
Michelle looked over him another moment or two, then shrugged and said, "Dinner won't be ready for another ten or fifteen minutes."  
  
Erik nodded. "In that case, I think I'll see if I can set up the tree."  
  
Michelle froze. "What tree?" she asked cautiously.  
  
Erik suddenly felt a little nervous. "I got a tree for Christmas."  
  
Michelle rushed into the parlor, Erik close on her heels. When she saw the tree, she had to blink back tears; she really hadn't thought they would get a tree.  
  
"I wasn't sure which one to pick out," Erik said. "I hope this one is all right."  
  
Alright? "It's perfect," Michelle sighed.  
  
She blinked back the unexpected tears in her eyes before Erik could see. Back home, a tree was expected, taken for granted. The fact that Erik had gone out and gotten one just for her was humbling and heartwarming. Then Michelle knew that she had fallen in love with him.  
  
They were eating supper when Erik asked what she had done while he was gone. "Meg came here," Michelle replied. "Apparently Christine is leaving tomorrow, too, so I gave Meg Christine's gift, as well as her own and her mother's." She glanced at Erik. "She also invited us to a party the managers are throwing the dancers on Christmas."  
  
Erik looked at her. "The dancers have to work on Christmas?" He didn't know much about the holiday, but he was sure people didn't have to work then.  
  
Michelle shrugged and smiled. " Well, they do get a large Christmas bonus."  
  
Erik nodded, then smiled back. "Why don't we go?"  
  
Michelle looked almost as surprised as Erik felt. Why had he said that? He hated crowds. Then, unbidden, a vision of Michelle swirling across a dance floor in the deep, sea-green dress he had purchased entered his mind. The thought of dancing with her, like a normal person, like a courting couple, was too sweet to ignore. So, they would go.  
  
Michelle finally replied to his unexpected answer. "Okay. Meg is coming back tomorrow for my answer. I'll tell her then." Michelle had told her maybe, but had doubted that Erik would want to go.  
  
"How is she?" Erik asked, trying to make conversation.  
  
Now Michelle really grinned. "Apparently, she's at the end of her rope where Raoul is concerned."  
  
Erik blinked in confusion. "I beg your pardon?"  
  
"I advised Christine to take a sabbatical from her fiancé, so she has been avoiding him. Meg has been assuring him that she is alright. Unfortunately, he has been, and I quote, 'an over-bearing, arrogant man who thinks he can make her cower just by raising one of his annoyingly attractive eyebrows'. Unquote."  
  
Erik raised one of his eyebrows. "Annoyingly attractive?"  
  
Michelle chuckled. "Seriously, I never thought that Raoul and Christine would suit. They're too much like siblings to be happy as man-and-wife. Besides, if Christine really wanted to marry him, she wouldn't be having doubts."  
  
Erik pondered this a moment. "I suppose you are right." Then he grinned. "Do you think the Vicomte and Meg would be a better match?"  
  
Michelle nodded. "Actually, I do." She put her chin in her hands. "Now if only we could find someone for Christine."  
  
Erik chuckled. "Perhaps she will meet someone on her train and live happily ever after. The end."  
  
* * * * *  
  
The next day, Christine sat in her car staring out the window as the train left the station. She was alone in the car and wouldn't have minded some company, if she knew the person, but solitude was alright, too.  
  
The door to the car opened and someone came in. "Why, Mademoiselle Daae. I didn't know you were on this train as well."  
  
Christine turned to the person and saw the Daroga standing there. She smiled. "Bonjour, Monsieur. Are you going on holiday?"  
  
"No. Business. Of course, if you don't mind the company, passing a trip with a lovely lady would be most pleasant."  
  
Christine blushed at the compliment, then moved over on the seat to make more room. Smiling, Nadir sat beside her. "So, why are you traveling so near Christmas?" 


	15. Chapter 14: The Journey

Disclaimer: I don't own POTO or any of its characters. (Sorry. I ran out of humorous disclaimers.)  
  
Guardian Angel  
  
Christine was enjoying the trip immensely, mostly because of her unexpected traveling companion. He was such a good listener; he didn't interrupt or give her unwanted advice, as most people were want to do.  
  
"So Michelle suggested that I take a time away. Maybe then I can decide if I want to marry Raoul or not." Christine finished her story and waited for Nadir to respond.  
  
He thought a moment, then said, "It seems to me...Do you mind if I offer some elderly wisdom?"  
  
Elderly perhaps, but he was still quite handsome and rather charming to Christine's way of thinking. "Not at all."  
  
"Well," he continued. "It seems to me that if you really wanted to wed him, you wouldn't need to go away to find your answer. But, as I said, that is only my opinion."  
  
Christine was a little surprised by this advice. Most people would have said "Marry him. He's rich. He's nobility. What more could you want?" But that was just it. She did want more. She felt that there was something more to be had, something more than what she had with Raoul.  
  
Nadir noticed her silence. "I apologize. I didn't mean to offend you."  
  
"Oh, but you didn't," she quickly replied. "You just...well...I need to think about this."  
  
Not offended, Nadir nodded congenially and opened the book he had brought, giving her the mental privacy she required.  
  
Christine stared out the window, not really seeing the passing scenery. *Did Raoul ever give me the space I needed to think?* she wondered. *Not that I recall.* Actually, he, along with several others, seemed to believe that she couldn't think, that she hadn't a brain in her pretty little head.  
  
Her thoughts were interrupted once again by Nadir. "I beg your pardon, Miss Daae, but is something troubling you?"  
  
Christine wondered how he had noticed when he had been reading. "No, nothing. I was just thinking."  
  
Nadir set aside his book, thankful she hadn't noticed that he had been staring. "It must be something serious."  
  
She looked sharply at him to see if he was making fun of her. But his expression showed nothing of the condescension she usually saw when trying to share her thoughts. Instead, she saw interest and perhaps a little concern. Why he should be concerned, she had no idea. "You actually want to know what I'm thinking, don't you?" she said, surprised.  
  
He nodded. "Yes. Quite a bit."  
  
Christine lowered her eyes to the floor and let out a sigh. "I was thinking... Some people don't think I have a brain," she said. "To them, I'm just a pretty face. A pretty box with nothing inside except a little mechanism to make pretty music." She took a breath and blinked back some unexpected and rather unwelcome tears. "I know I'm a bit slow, but I am not stupid." Her voice broke a little and the tears she tried to hold back were falling freely, but her voice was gaining strength and conviction. "I hate it when someone tries to make me feel less than I am. When someone tries to make feel stupid, I hate that. And I refuse to be nothing but a bauble to my husband." Unable to say more, Christine put her face in her hands and cried. Now she had completely humiliated herself before the one person she had wanted to impress.  
  
But instead of laughing at her or telling her to stop being such a baby, as most people would, Nadir put his arms around her and gently urged her head to his shoulder, where she proceeded to weep until his jacket was soaked. Gently holding her, Nadir asked fiercely, "Does the Vicomte ever do that to you?"  
  
Christine sniffled, her face still buried in his coat. "Do what?"  
  
"Try to make you feel stupid." Lord help him, but if that stuck up cub did, Nadir would go straight back to Paris and bury his fist in the man's face, prisoner be damned.  
  
Christine had regained most of her control, but didn't want to leave the comforting circle of this man's arms. "No. Raoul would never do that. He just... He'd rather that I didn't have to think, is all." She felt a small smile come to her lips. "Sort of what a brother wants for his sister." Christine felt as though a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She disengaged herself from Nadir and looked at the spot she had been crying on. "Oh, dear," she said, though without much real regret for what had happened. "I've blubbered all over you."  
  
Nadir looked at the wet spot on his formally immaculate attire. "Don't worry about it," he said. "I can change into a different one." He rose just to do that. He took the small valise he had brought on the train and excused himself to another empty car to change. And while he was there, he told himself that he didn't enjoy discovering just how good she felt in his arms. He even tried to believe it. He tried really hard.  
  
The remainder of the journey was spent in silence, with Christine thinking about her love life and sneaking glances at Nadir whenever he wasn't looking, and Nadir pretending to read his book and stealing glances at Christine when she wasn't looking. If someone else had been in the car and was watching them, he'd have compared it to a tennis match, with one person looking at the other then looking away, and then vice versa, all in a rapid succession.  
  
When they finally reached their destination, Nadir assisted Christine with her luggage, loading it onto the hack he called for her. "Good afternoon, Miss Daae. I hope you find the answer you are looking for."  
  
"Thank you. Perhaps we shall be traveling back to Paris together."  
  
Nadir smiled politely. "As much as I would enjoy that, I shall be leaving either tomorrow or the next day." Even though he would rather spend another long ride basking in the warmth of her presence.  
  
Christine was able to mask her disappointment behind a smile. "Well, then. Pleasant journey."  
  
She began to step up to the seat, but Nadir couldn't let her leave without assuring her of at least one thing. He captured her elbow and turned her to face him. "I just want you to know, you are neither slow nor stupid."  
  
He released her and stepped back. She climbed into the carriage after a stunned second when her chest had felt so tight that she couldn't move. As the carriage drove away, Christine waved to Nadir. He waved back. Once the hack was out of sight, he dropped his arm. He turned and started walking to the office where the prisoner was being held. A treacherous voice in his head taunted him. *You could always send him to Paris with someone else. No one would blame you for spending a few extra days in the county. You haven't had a day off for five years.* He shoved the thought away. He enjoyed his work. And enjoyed having it done properly. Besides, he had no idea where she was staying.  
  
*There are ways of finding out.*  
  
Nadir shoved that thought away, too. He wouldn't misuse the tracking skills of the French police just so he could carry on some trivial flirtation. Although, some of the newer, younger members got assignments finding the whereabouts of civilians as part of their training.  
  
*Besides, this "flirtation" isn't quite "trivial" to you.*  
  
Nadir shoved this thought away as well. Then he sighed, knowing that he wasn't returning to Paris any time soon. 


	16. Chapter 15: The First Kiss

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my own wacky ideas. Gee, that sounds so familiar.  
  
Guardian Angel  
  
Christmas Day.  
  
Michelle jumped happily out of bed and got herself dressed in record time. Oh, but she loved Christmas. She had to get her gifts to Erik under the tree, or else she would forget about them.  
  
She put the presents under the tree, which had been decorated with ribbons and paper snowflakes, stars, and angels, in only two trips. My, but she had energy. The excitement of the holiday was making her hyper. And she had to wait until after dinner for Erik to open her presents.  
  
*Speaking of Erik,* Michelle thought, *He doesn't seem to be up yet. I think I'll go wake him.* Smiling, she went to Erik's room and opened the door.  
  
Her smile quickly turned into a frown. There was that dreadful coffin of his. She had discovered it the first time she wanted to clean the linens. That awful box served as his bed. Far too depressing to her way of thinking. Fortunately, that would be rectified when Raoul came with her other gift to Erik while they were at the party.  
  
Slipping into the room, Michelle tiptoed over to the casket. She got a feeling of déjà vu. It was almost like her dream. Of course, Erik wasn't going to hurt her. In fact, when she had the dream the past few nights, he had been right beside her when she awoke, terrified. If she didn't know better, she'd think he had been staying up all night beside her.  
  
She peered into the canister at Erik and let out a small gasp. In sleep, he looked younger. The lines around his face smoothed out to a degree that made him look almost innocent. At least, as innocent as was possible for a grown man to look. Actually, he was rather attractive. His hair was rumpled from sleep and his jaw was covered with a light stubble. It had never occurred to Michelle that facial hair even grew on Erik, or that his hair could become tousled. He always looked so refined. In this unkempt state, he looked rather piquant. She studied him a while longer. *Not exactly Sleeping Beauty,* she thought, then smiled. *I wonder what would happen if I kissed him awake.* She gasped at the thought, mostly because it was so... appealing. She glanced at his lips. Thin, yet somehow sensual. Of its own accord, her hand lifted and brushed her fingers languidly across his lips. My, but they were soft. Unable to resist this small temptation, she took her fingers and pressed them against her own lips, as close to a kiss as she would ever obtain from this man. Not nearly satisfied with the brush of her own fingers, Michelle shook her mind from her tempestuous thoughts and began to wake him.  
  
"Erik," she whispered softly, just barely leaning in. He didn't stir. She leaned in closer to his ear. "Erik," she whispered a little more loudly. Still he did not stir. Leaning in until her every breath teased the hair at his temple, Michelle took a soft breath and...  
  
"ERIK!"  
  
Erik vaulted half out of the coffin. "What the - ?" He almost finished the phrase, but a hand over his mouth prevented him from saying much of anything.  
  
"Erik," Michelle's chiding voice somehow managed to wind its way into his sleep-fogged brain. "You know I don't appreciate cursing."  
  
Erik turned to glare at her. "Mn mm mim oo emm im y im?"  
  
Michelle took her hand from his mouth. "I beg your pardon?"  
  
"Then why did you yell in my ear?"  
  
Michelle grinned at him and shrugged, her earlier musings forgotten in her prank. "Because it's time for you to get up. It's Christmas Day!"  
  
Erik's mind was finally clearing; he realized that Michelle was in his room, and his clothes and person were in complete disarray. She, on the other hand, looked as unruffled as always, which was to say she looked absolutely perfect in her plain yet becoming frock. The gowns he purchased would make her look dazzling. Speaking of which, he had to deposit her gifts beneath the tree, as soon as she was out of his apartment and he was dressed. Fortunately, she was already leaving.  
  
"I'm going to make omelets for breakfast. Is there anything in particular you want in yours?"  
  
Erik thought a moment. "No. Whatever you have is fine."  
  
Michelle left the room, leaving Erik alone with his thoughts. He loved the way she enjoyed the more domestic activities. It seemed as though more and more women were after equality: right to vote, more employment opportunities, the elemental loss of the fragility that made the protective instincts of men come on full alert. Not that Erik didn't support women voting and employment. He was. Still, there was something about Michelle's joy in making others happy, the complete selflessness, that made him want to protect her from people that would take advantage of her kindness. Very dangerous thoughts. So why did he no longer care?  
  
* * * * *  
  
Raoul stalked through the Opera house. Meg hadn't been here last night when he came by. Oddly enough, his visits had become more of an excuse to the saucy ballerina and spend a while enjoying her wickedly sharp views on nothing in general and everything in particular. That "particular" was usually how much she disliked the noble set, and himself. He had gone out of his usual character to change her mind about him, sending her flowers after performances, complimenting her work, things like that. Of course, he made sure she knew he meant nothing by it, other than to show that not all gentlemen were old lechers out looking for fresh meat.  
  
Raoul firmly reminded himself why he was angry. He had arrived at Meg's dressing room, as usual, to see her, but when he knocked, he discovered that she was not there. On the vanity was a note.  
  
"I have gone to dinner with a friend," it read. "Please come tomorrow afternoon. I shall be in my dressing room helping some of the girls with their dresses."  
  
That was all. No greeting, no closing. No nothing! She was off who knows where doing who knows what with who knows whom! And he was forced to wait until the next afternoon to find out just what she had been doing. His anger restored, Raoul threw the door to Meg's dressing room open. It crashed against the wall gaining the attention of Meg, and the other half- dozen girls in the room.  
  
Raoul barely glanced at them. His attention was on Meg. He stormed over to her until their faces were only inches apart and yelled, "Where the hell were you last night?!"  
  
Meg glanced anxiously at the other ballerinas who were watching the exchange with growing interest. "I told you in my note," she said in a whisper, trying to keep the conversation private.  
  
"Damn your letter. I demand a straight answer. NOW!"  
  
Meg flinched. Another glance at her companions showed that there were a few knowing smirks in the crowd. Offended, she looked Raoul in the eye. "If you don't mind," she hissed, "I think we should continue this conversation in private." Back poker straight, Meg marched out of the room into the empty hall, Raoul on her heels.  
  
When she heard the door close, Meg spun angrily to face the Vicomte. She began by slapping his face. "How dare you?" she demanded, her hand stinging from the smack.  
  
Raoul's hand covered the cheek she slapped. "How dare I what?"  
  
Meg bristled even more. "How dare you barge into my dressing room-"  
  
"You told me to come."  
  
"- and ask me where I was last night like I was a wayward lover or something?" She swung her arm towards the door. "Those girl already have suspicions about why you've been coming to see me. That little scene just proved those notions right."  
  
Raoul crossed his arms over his chest. "Proved to whom?"  
  
"To them!"  
  
"Well, who cares what they think?"  
  
"I do."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because I have to see them everyday and I don't want them to think the worst of me. Right now they think I'm trying to steals Christine's fiancée, and succeeding."  
  
"Oh, right," Raoul sneered. "You wouldn't want it to get around to your lover that you've found another man, would you?"  
  
Meg's mouth dropped open. Then, with blazing eyes, she shouted, "I do NOT have a LOVER!!!"  
  
Raoul gave her a withering look. "Right. Then who were you with last night? Who was your friend?" He sneered the last word.  
  
Meg gave him a supercilious look. "Not that it is any of your business, I was with my friend Marie. She was upset and I wanted to console her."  
  
Raoul suddenly felt like a heel. Not only had he accused Meg of having a lover, which she obviously did not, but he had the audacity to feel relieved that she didn't. Not only that, but he had been jealous when he thought that she did. He had never been jealous before in his life. He couldn't say that now.  
  
"I... apologize," he said lamely. "I should not have jumped to conclusions."  
  
Meg glared at him. "It's a good thing you don't care what other people think, because I do not accept your apology."  
  
Raoul glared back. "Why not?"  
  
"I don't believe you are sincere," she said simply.  
  
Raoul was irritated again. "Look, I was only doing the decent thing."  
  
Meg scoffed. "And I can guess how often that happens."  
  
Raoul growled. "Fine. I was trying to be big about this..."  
  
"Fine. You be big. I want to stay mad." She brushed passed him heading for the door.  
  
"Do not walk away from me," Raoul ordered, turning to face her.  
  
Meg stopped in her tracks and turned to him. "Do not order me around. I am not one of your lackeys."  
  
Finally fed up, Raoul advanced until they were face to face. "I do not have lackeys," he said. Then he grabbed her arms, pulled her flush against his chest, and kissed her.  
  
Meg was so surprised by the kiss that she did nothing at first. Then she began to struggle. But Raoul was strong and determined. He wrapped an arm around her waist and held her head in place with his other hand as he continued the tender onslaught. Still struggling Meg opened her mouth to try to call someone. Raoul used the opportunity to slip his tongue in her mouth, just a little. Meg gasped and tried to push him away. Raoul ignored her. Instead, he explored her mouth with his tongue, gently skimming her lips, teasing her tongue with his, nibbling on her lips to make her shiver. Somehow, the kiss stopped being on of retribution and became one of passion.  
  
Meg finally gave up and let herself be swept away by the feelings Raoul was creating. She was dizzy. The world was spinning out of control and the only thing she had to hang on to was Raoul. She fell limp against him, clutching at his shoulders, trusting him to take care of her in this world he had created.  
  
Raoul felt the change in Meg. She was suddenly pliant in his arms, and he continued kissing her, completely forgetting why he had started in the first place. The only thing that mattered was this moment, this kiss. This woman. Raoul breathed Meg's name across her lips and kissed her again, encouraging her to kiss him back. In all his life, he had never felt anything as dizzying as kissing Meg. The innocent caresses of her lips on his were driving him insane. Even kissing Christine had never felt like this.  
  
Christine!  
  
Meg realized what was happening at the same time Raoul did. They thrust each other away. Meg's eyes were wide with horror. She had been kissing Christine's fiancée. What kind of friend was she? Not waiting for any explanation or apology, Meg ran back into her dressing room, preferring to face the knowing glances and comments from her fellows than to face Raoul knowing what she had done. She was nothing more than a back stabber. She had one really close friend and what did she do? She kissed her friend's husband-to-be. *And worst of all,* Meg thought, leaning against the door, *I liked it.*  
  
Raoul stared at the door. *Oh, my God,* he thought. *What have I done?*  
  
Whether he was referring to the passionate kisses he had shared with Meg or becoming engaged to a girl that that he thought more of as his sister than his lover, even he couldn't be sure. He only knew that he couldn't marry Christine. It wouldn't be right to marry her when he felt this way about Meg. Although just how he felt, he wasn't sure.  
  
Raoul turned down another corridor. The managers had a large supply of drinks in their office. They wouldn't mind if he sampled a few gallons.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
A/N: Ha, Ha, and Ha! I'm so evil! *clears throat* Anyway, no, Raoul still isn't a cheating bastard and Meg isn't a heartless back stabber. After all, we know what Christine is doing, too. *laughs evilly* 


	17. Chapter 16: The Second First Kiss

A/N: Finally, another chapter. Fair warning, this is a really long chapter.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but my twisted story ideas. *heh, heh, heh*  
  
Guardian Angel  
  
Erik spent the afternoon helping Michelle finish the small meal they were having for Christmas dinner. It was small because the party was going to have a rather large assortment of delicacies for the guests to sample.  
  
Michelle had been a little worried about what she would wear to the formal gathering; she had no formal gowns with her. She finally decided to add a bit of lace Meg had brought her to one of her regular gowns, and maybe alter it to make it more suitable. Now the finished product was lying on her bed.  
  
Erik had his own worries about the party. How could he remain unnoticed and still play the part of Michelle's escort? The answer came almost immediately. People often wore their costumes to such gatherings, and some of the minor characters wore masks. All he had to do was find one, and he would be fine. Satisfied with that conclusion, Erik left his room, where he had been musing, and headed for the dinning room, where their Christmas dinner was to be had. On the way there, Erik paused and looked beneath the tree, not for the first time that day. There were already gifts there when he put his presents to Michelle under. Quite a few, he'd noticed. And they all were addressed to "Erik". Him. He felt a strange twist in his chest at the thought of Michelle getting him something for Christmas. But he had to wonder, where did she get them?  
  
He shrugged to himself and continued to the dinning room. He could ask her when they opened gifts after dinner and before they went to the party. Erik grinned. The party. He knew what Michelle was going to wear: that silly little dress trimmed with a piece of lace. Not that she wouldn't look charming. She was always lovely, though she didn't seem to know it. She looked like an angel when she slept; Erik knew because he had been watching her at night in case she had a nightmare, which she had, so she wouldn't be alone, which she wasn't. It had given him plenty of time to study her features. Probably a dumb idea on his part, but...  
  
Erik fervently hoped that she would wear on of the gowns he bought her to the soiree because in a beautiful gown like one of those, she would be breathtaking.  
  
He slipped into the dinning room. The table was already set and the food was on the table. Michelle was pouring white wine into two glasses, her back to him. Smiling like a crocodile, Erik silently sneaked behind her. She finished filling the glasses and placed them in their appropriate spots, one by the plate at the head of the table, and the other at the setting right next to it. Once all the glass was out of her hands, Erik placed his mouth right next to her ear and said softly, "Is dinner ready?"  
  
Startled, Michelle jumped and spun around. "Erik," she said, taking a deep breath to calm herself. Regaining her composure, she glared at him. "Don't do that to a person."  
  
Erik grinned. "Turnabout is fair play."  
  
Michelle sniffed. "That's a cliché, and yes, dinner is ready."  
  
Still grinning, Erik took his seat at the head of the table, only to jump up just in time to hold Michelle's chair for her. She smiled her thanks as he returned to his own seat. Erik reached for platter of succulent looking goose, but Michelle stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Aren't we going to say grace?" At his confused look, Michelle smiled a little. "I know we don't usually, but... well, it is Christmas." After a moment, Erik took back his arm, placed his hands on the table, and waited for Michelle to do something. "Haven't you ever said grace before?" she asked.  
  
Erik grinned (he was doing that a lot lately). "Sure. Grace." Michelle gave him a withering look. His grin faded. "No, I've never said grace before."  
  
Michelle studied him. "Hmm. Okay. Just bow your head." Michelle bowed her own head and placed her hands in her lap. Erik followed her example. "Dear Heavenly Father," she began. "We thank You for this food before us and that we are here together in health and happiness. We ask you to bless this food to our bodies on this day of Your Son's birth. Amen," she finished.  
  
Erik echoed, "Amen." Then they helped themselves to succulent goose, plum pudding, potatoes, green beans, hot biscuits, cranberry sauce, and roasted chestnuts.  
  
After the meal, Erik and Michelle went into the parlor to the tree. Michelle said happily, "Now we open presents." She sat in front of the tree and, reluctantly, Erik followed suit. "Oh," she exclaimed. "I almost forgot our stockings."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
Michelle laughed gaily as she took something off the mantle of the fireplace. "Our stockings." She presented him with a large stocking made out of bright green velvet and lined around the opening with white velvet. "You hang it over the fireplace so people can put small presents in it." She put it in his hand. "Do you like it," she asked hesitantly.  
  
Erik held the heavy stocking with reverence. "Yes. It's beautiful."  
  
Michelle smiled. "I made it myself." She could have bit her tongue. That sounded so childish.  
  
Erik didn't notice. "You sew beautifully."  
  
Relieved, Michelle smiled and started emptying out her red stocking. Erik watched for a moment, then blurted, "Don't you already know what's in there?"  
  
Michelle smiled. "Yes, but that doesn't make it taste any worse."  
  
Erik saw that she was referring to the dried fruit she had retrieved. Then he shook his head and started emptying his own stocking. He found the same dried fruit, and under it was a small wrapped package. He looked at Michelle, but she paid not attention to him. He slowly unwrapped it, savoring the anticipation of his very first present. He pulled away the last piece of wrapping and found a small box. Hesitantly, as if worried that it was nothing, Erik removed to top to reveal a beautifully designed gold fob watch and chain. "I thought you might want one," Michelle's soft voice said. She had been paying more attention than he had thought. Erik looked at the watch, then at her. He smiled and said, "Thank you." If his smile was a little shaky and his voice a bit hoarse, Michelle didn't notice.  
  
Erik and Michelle had finished opening their gifts. Erik had been surprised and please with his new black cape with purple lining ("Yours was getting shabby," Michelle said), and his green knit scarf ("I made that, too."), and the bottle of rather expensive wine, and a new violin case. "Your old one was a bit battered," she had said. Erik hadn't even known that she paid any attention to his things. The fact that she did delighted him.  
  
Michelle was amazed by her gifts: a white lace fan, white pearls, a music box (which played a song Erik put in), a burgundy velvet cloak with fur lining, and three pairs of slippers.  
  
"Oh my goodness," she gasped when she opened the box containing the slippers. The other gifts had been opened and were scattered around on display. Erik sat in a chair and watched Michelle's reaction.  
  
"They are so beautiful," she cried. "Oh, I wish I had something to wear them with."  
  
*Time for the grand finale,* Erik thought, standing. "Actually, you do." Ignoring Michelle's look of confusion, Erik went over to his favorite chair, the one with the secret passage, and opened the hidden door. From the passageway he retrieved the three boxes with the gowns and put them in front of Michelle, then went back to his seat. Michelle just stared dumbly at him. "Well," he said, "Open them."  
  
Michelle tore at the wrappings and ribbons on the first box and ripped off the lid. When she saw what was inside, she gasped. She lifted the sea green gown out of the box and held it to herself. "It's beautiful," she whispered. "It's the most beautiful dress I've ever seen." Erik smiled, knowing from the glow in her eyes that she was telling the truth. She stood up, still holding the gown, and spun around. "It's simply gorgeous," she said again.  
  
Erik stood and went over to her and lifted her chin to look in her eyes. "Wear it tonight," he said softly.  
  
Michelle's breath caught when he touched her and hadn't returned yet. His asking her to wear the gown with that tone to his voice and that look in his eye wasn't helping. Somehow she found enough strength to take a breath and say, "Alright."  
  
Erik smiled softly and her knees turned to jelly. "You should go get ready," he said, hoping she didn't notice the husky note in his voice.  
  
She did, but tried to ignore it since it made her heart beat double-time. "But what about the others?" she said, wishing it hadn't come out so soft.  
  
"You can open them later."  
  
Michelle nodded and reluctantly stepped away from his stimulating presence and into her room to get ready.  
  
When he heard the door to Michelle's room close, Erik finally let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He went over to sit in the chair he had earlier vacated and put his head in his hand. He had come dangerously close to kissing her. He probably would have, if he had been forced to spend another moment in her vicinity. Not that it was her fault. She hadn't asked to have him panting after her. It was the one thing he shouldn't do. *You're supposed to be protecting her from killers,* he reminded himself while trying to regain some self-control. It wasn't easy knowing that she was in the next room changing into that dress with only a door between them. Well, a door and his own sense of duty. But how long until his sense of duty was no longer enough to keep him away.  
  
*Just don't let that happen,* Erik told himself. *It mustn't happen. If it does-*  
  
Erik didn't want to think of that because if he did, he'd know that he wouldn't be able to let Michelle go. Or maybe it was already too late.  
  
"Ahem."  
  
Erik turned to look at Michelle, who had just emerged from her room. His breath caught in his throat. She was a vision in the sea-green silk, the full skirt making her trim waist seem even smaller, and the small puffed off-the-shoulder sleeves bringing his attention to her exposed skin and the hint of cleavage that peeked out from the bodice. Her hair had been fashioned into some sort of elegant hairstyle on the top of her head with a few stray wisps left loose to tease her bare neck and shoulders. He stood and walked around her, pretending to examine when he was really admiring.  
  
He was also making Michelle rather nervous. "So," she said, trying for a light tone. "How do I look?"  
  
Erik stopped in front of her and looked her over critically. "There's something missing," he murmured. He turned to the tree and the scattered mess of gifts, searched around for a moment, and turned back with the pearl choker in his hand. He slid behind her and fastened it around her neck. Her breath hitched at the feel of his fingers on her neck. He wasn't even wearing gloves to subdue the sensations.  
  
Erik, on the other hand, was deliberately lingering. He leaned forward a little and inhaled her scent. She smelled like a field of wildflowers. He loved wildflowers.  
  
After a long minute, Erik turned Michelle around to face him. "Perfect," he said. Michelle raised her left hand to touch the pearls, and Erik noticed something on her wrist. "What is that?" he asked.  
  
Michelle looked down at the diamond bracelet. "Oh, my father gave this to me. I thought it looked nice with the dress."  
  
Erik nodded. "It does." *Probably some sort of crystal,* he thought. "I think it's time to go," he said.  
  
Michelle nodded, then glanced at the considerable pile of gifts. "Can I wear my new cloak?" she ask shyly.  
  
Erik smiled, pleased that she would want to, then picked it up and held it for her. Michelle stepped into it, turned around, and reached for the strings to tie it closed. Erik turned back to his chair and located his own cape and gloves and put them on. Then he opened to passageway to the labyrinth, offered Michelle his arm, and led her into the darkness. "Don't let go of my arm," he said. "It's easy to get lost down here."  
  
Michelle glanced at him, as well as she could in the almost complete darkness. "Have you ever?"  
  
"Have I ever what?"  
  
Michelle heard the smile in his voice and knew he was teasing her. "Gotten lost."  
  
"No."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because I have an excellent sense of direction."  
  
Michelle sniffed lightly. "Uh-huh."  
  
Erik looked at her. "It's true."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"It is."  
  
"I believe you."  
  
Erik smiled at her disbelieving tone. "No, you don't."  
  
"Yes, I do."  
  
"Do not."  
  
"Do to."  
  
"Do not."  
  
"Do to."  
  
"Do not."  
  
"When did we become children?"  
  
At that, Erik threw back his head and laughed. Michelle waited for him to finish. And waited. And waited.  
  
She finally cut him off in mid-chuckle. "It wasn't that funny."  
  
Erik, who had finally gotten himself under control, wiped his eyes. "I know. I'm sorry. It was just unexpected."  
  
"Well I wasn't going to walk all the way to the party bickering like a child."  
  
Erik chuckled again. "Of course."  
  
Michelle glanced at him to see if he was going to laugh again (not very bright of her, since she still couldn't see him), and noticed something she hadn't before. "Erik," she said, surprised. "Your eyes are glowing."  
  
His eyes, which resembled two golden glowing embers, widened. "Um... yes." He turned away, embarrassed, and quickly resumed walking, gently pulling Michelle along.  
  
"Erik?" she said uncertainly. "Is something wrong?"  
  
"No, nothing," he responded gruffly.  
  
Michelle frowned concernedly. "Are you sure?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Because I didn't mean to embarrass you, if that's what's wrong-"  
  
"Nothing is wrong," he growled impatiently.  
  
Michelle shrunk back a little. "Alright," she said. Then after a silent moment she said, "I think you have beautiful eyes."  
  
Michelle wanted to kick herself. What had possessed her to tell him that?  
  
Erik was almost as surprised as she was. He didn't know what to say, so he said nothing and let the subject drop.  
  
In a few minutes, Erik stopped. "Here we are," he said.  
  
Michelle looked around for a door, but didn't see one. "We are where?" she asked.  
  
She wasn't sure, but she thought Erik smiled. "At the party." Suddenly an opening appeared behind him. He stuck his head out, probably to see if anyone was around, and then escorted her through. The dimly lighted room proved to be a dressing room, and the opening was through a mirror. She giggled. "It's almost like ALICE IN WONDERLAND. The one where she goes through the mirror." Erik nodded, even though he didn't know what she was talking about, and led her out the door.  
  
In the hall, music could faintly be heard from the party. They passed no one while walking to the gathering. When they were approaching the ballroom, Erik stopped. "I need to leave you for a moment" he said.  
  
Michelle looked at him, confused. "Why?"  
  
He smiled wryly. "Because too many people would recognize me in this mask. I need to get a different one."  
  
Michelle narrowed her eyes. "Wouldn't they recognize you just as easily with a different one?"  
  
Erik bent to quickly kiss her cheek. "Trust me," he said, and then ran off.  
  
Michelle stood, stunned by the kiss, such as it was. She raised her hand to touch her cheek. *Oh, my,* she thought. Trust me, he had said. Michelle smiled. *I do, Erik. I do.* She went into the ballroom, gave her cloak to a cloakroom attendant, and joined the party.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Erik slid through the shadows back to the ballroom. His white mask had been replaced with a decorative black one from the prop room. He peeked in at the festivities. Several male actors had worn their masks from the ballet to the party, hoping to be the center of attention. So, naturally, no one paid any attention to them at all.  
  
Smiling, Erik left his cape behind a curtain, where he knew it would be safe, and slid into the ballroom. His eyes immediately found Michelle at the far edge of the room. He felt his breath catch. She was even more beautiful under the bright lights of the ballroom. Her light brown hair shone with gold under the chandelier. He didn't even notice she wasn't alone until she saw him and waved him over. Then he realized that she had acquired a rather substantial group of admirers, from foppish amateurs and boys who thought they were dangerous to women to serious actors and men that knew they were dangerous to women. For a moment, Erik thought of retreating back to the shadows so he wouldn't have to enter the crowd, but immediately thrust that thought away, knowing he couldn't leave a defenseless innocent among that wolf pack. So he reluctantly left his sanctuary of shadows and warily slinked around the dance floor to where Michelle was holding court.  
  
When he got there, Michelle laughed at something one of the men said. Erik was torn between the astonishment of how much she glowed when she laughed, and a desire to put his fist through a wall. She turned to him, still chuckling, and said, "Oh, there you are, Erik." She took his arm and turned to her doting swains. "This is my escort, Erik." The other men nodded cordially. Erik looked around at the group, pleased to find that he was taller than them all by at least two inches. Some of the younger men were wearing masks similar to his. They didn't seem surprised by the presence of one more. Erik nodded back.  
  
Just then, two older men joined the group. "Michelle, dear," one of them said taking her arm from Erik. "I would like you to meet a friend of mine. He's a Russian Duke," he finished in a stage whisper.  
  
The duke took her hand and Michelle dropped into an elegant curtsy. "Your Grace," she said.  
  
The duke bowed over her hand, and looked down her dress in the process. Erik felt a wave of white hot anger wash over him. How dare this pompous Russian ogle her? When the duke rose, he gave Michelle a charming smile, one that had probably left many children scattered around Russia, and said smoothly, "I believe I hear a waltz beginning, my dear. Would you can to join me on the floor?"  
  
Erik was about to tell him exactly where they could join him when Michelle placed a restraining hand on his arm and sweetly stated, "I'm terribly sorry, but I've already promised this dance to my escort. Erik?" She smiled at him and took his arm. Surprised and pleased, Erik gave the group a parting glare and led her to the floor. When they had left the group, Erik felt Michelle shudder. "Ug."  
  
Erik glanced at her. "What?" The musicians were just starting to warm up.  
  
"Oh, I just remembered why I hate Russian duke, that's all."  
  
Erik raised an eyebrow. "Really? And why is that?"  
  
Michelle looked around and stuttered, "Well, he... He was... He looked down my dress!" she blurted out, then blushed.  
  
Erik smiled, relieved that she wasn't impressed with the Russian. "If you like, I could go beat his head in."  
  
Michelle giggled. "No, that won't be necessary. Besides, the music is starting."  
  
The waltz had indeed begun, so Erik bowed, Michelle curtsied, and they began dancing. Erik was amazed at her skill. She danced like a feather, seemingly not even touching the floor. "You dance wonderfully," he said.  
  
Michelle smiled. "So do you."  
  
They danced in silence a moment longer, and then Michelle said, surprised, "I just noticed something."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Your hair. It's red."  
  
Erik looked at her sharply. "What?"  
  
"Well, not red exactly. More of a dark auburn."  
  
Erik was going to get angry again, but she looked so pleased with her discovery that he couldn't become cross. "What color did you expect it to be?" he asked.  
  
Michelle cocked her head to one side. "I don't know. Probably black or dark brown, to match your moodiness." She smiled so the words held no venom.  
  
"I am never moody," Erik said with mock indignation. Michelle threw her head back and laughed, a sweet tinkling sound like a bell. Erik laughed too and spun her around a final time before the dance ended. He escorted her to the edge of the dance floor, away from her waiting admirers. He wanted her all to himself tonight.  
  
He stopped a ways away from the group. "I think this is far enough to go," he said to himself.  
  
Michelle saw the duke heading their way. "I agree, but let's go further." She practically dragged him away until the duke was no longer in their sight.  
  
Erik chuckled at her haste, for he had also seen the Russian. However, he chose not to comment on it. "You really do dance beautifully," he said as they continued strolling around the room. "Do you waltz often?"  
  
Michelle suddenly stopped. "Erik," she said hesitantly. "I need to tell you something."  
  
"What is it?" he asked.  
  
"Well...You have to understand...You see, Nadir said I wasn't supposed to tell, though I don't know why, and I've been so afraid that... Well, it's about my past. Sort of... Well, my father......... Oh," she stamped her foot. "This is so hard to say."  
  
She looked so adorable when she was frustrated that Erik would have laughed, if she hadn't looked as though she were about to cry. "What? What is it?"  
  
She looked at him. "I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I've been so afraid that you would hate me if you knew..."  
  
*Knew what?* he thought as he took hold of her shoulders and forced her to look him in the eye. "Michelle," he said. "I could never hate you."  
  
She sniffled softly. "Really?"  
  
He nodded solemnly. "Really."  
  
A loud wolf whistle interrupted them. Erik and Michelle turned to see several people looking at them, and grinning. "Kiss her!" someone they couldn't see cried out. The rest of the crowd loudly proclaimed their agreement. In the midst of the jeers, Michelle finally realized what they were about. "Oh, no," she groaned softly.  
  
Erik glanced at her. "What?" he whispered. Michelle pointed above their heads, and they both looked up. A green sprig of something was hanging over them. "What is that?" Erik asked.  
  
Michelle blushed. "Mistletoe."  
  
Erik glanced at the still encouraging crowd and back to her. "So?"  
  
Michelle blushed harder. "At Christmas time, when two people are under the mistletoe, they have to kiss." She quickly averted her eyes.  
  
Erik glanced again at the now silent and watching crowd. Heart pounding, Erik lifted his hands to cradle her head. "Well, we wouldn't want to break tradition, would we?"  
  
"No," Michelle breathed.  
  
Erik lowered his head to Michelle's enticingly parted lips looking into her wide eyes until he finally brushed his lips on hers. He retreated a bit almost immediately as a shock that felt like electricity ran through him, from his lips down. But it was a rather nice electricity. Deliberately, Erik lowered his head again. The same shock went through him, but this time he stayed to see what happened next. Slowly, he moved his mouth against hers until she melted against him and clutched his shoulders. Then he slipped his tongue just barely inside her mouth eliciting a small gasp from her. Erik's head was spinning. Sweet. She tasted so sweet. And hot. Her soft body was leaning against his hard one as if she couldn't stand on her own. And maybe she couldn't. Lord knew Erik was having trouble standing himself.  
  
Erik was about to deepen the kiss-and coax Michelle into kissing him back- when he thought he heard someone clapping. Actually, several someones. But why would anyone be clapping? Then Erik remembered that he and Michelle were not alone. He tore his mouth from hers and looked down at Michelle. She hadn't seemed to have noticed their applauding audience. Actually she looked disoriented and... disappointed? That the kiss was over? When she glanced at his mouth, he knew that she was. He shot a quick glance at the assembly and saw that they were thankfully leaving to find more a interesting exhibition. Very, very, very reluctantly, he stepped away from Michelle. She took her arms from his shoulders and refused to meet his eyes. Not surprising considering everything had been changed by that one explosive kiss. Or were there two? Erik looked at her lips, red and swollen from his kisses, and it took all of his substantial self-control not to carry her back to his lair and kiss her properly. Erik's lips twitched. *By which, of course, I mean improperly.*  
  
He looked away from the temptation she presented, choosing instead to watch the other guests talk and flirt and dance. Unexpectedly, Michelle asked him something he had never anticipated hearing. "Erik? Why did you kill Joseph Buquet?"  
  
Erik looked at her, confused. "I didn't."  
  
Now Michelle looked confused. "But I heard from someone...They said you...You said you killed someone."  
  
Erik looked away, shamed to have to admit to this. "Yes. I killed Piangi, though I didn't mean to."  
  
Michelle blinked, as she often did when she was confused. "What?"  
  
"He was a singer..."  
  
"Yes, I know that," she said impatiently. "But if you killed him, then you're not the only ghost in the theatre, because he's right behind you."  
  
Erik stared at her, then turned around. Sure enough, Piangi was not twenty feet away hovering around Carlotta like a loyal puppy.  
  
Erik was speechless. "I thought he was dead."  
  
"And I thought Buquet was murdered."  
  
They stood in silence, contemplating the recently revealed facts. "Well," Michelle finally said. "I am not going to stand around wondering." She started walking off. "Where are going?" Erik asked.  
  
Michelle turned around. "To find out the facts."  
  
"How?"  
  
Michelle smiled at his disbelieving expression. "Trust me. I'm an old hand at this sort of thing. Now you stay here and look charming. I'll be back in a moment."  
  
Erik watched as she disappeared into the crowd. "Charming?" he muttered to himself. "I've never been charming a day in my life."  
  
Michelle slipped through the crowded ballroom. *Let's see,* she thought.*I could join a group of gossipers that might have their facts straight, or I could simply ask Meg or Madame Giry. That would be easiest.* She noticed a group of gossiping ballerinas and grinned. *But what fun is easy, anyway?* Nonchalantly, she closed in on the group, waiting for an opening. She didn't have long to wait.  
  
"Carlotta looks a little rounder, if you know what I mean," one ballerina giggled.  
  
Another one agreed. "Yes. It's nice to know Piangi isn't getting impotent in his old age." A round of scandalized gasps and giggles followed this statement. Michelle used the pause in speech to break in. "It is rather fortunate that he recovered so well from the incident."  
  
Just as she knew they would, the girls all turned their heads to her, the two closest creating and opening to the circle. Michelle smoothly stepped in, acting for all the world as if she belonged there. "What do you mean?" one asked suspiciously.  
  
A passing waiter was carrying a tray with glasses of champagne. Michelle took one and sipped it before answering. "Simply that, in the light of what happened... Well, after his experience with the Phantom, it's a miracle he even survived. Personally, I thought he was gone for good."  
  
"She's perfectly right, you know," another girl exclaimed. "After they found him with that atrocious rope around his neck... My stars! If they had found him a moment later, he would have been dead, not just unconscious." The rest of the group agreed. Michelle sipped her champagne. *So that's what happened,* she thought as her quick mind put together the pieces. *Erik knocked Piangi unconscious with his little noose and only thought he was dead. But what about Buquet?*  
  
If you never ask, you'll never find out. "Piangi was certainly more fortunate than Joseph Buquet. He wasn't able to come out of his confrontation with O.G. alive."  
  
One of the older ballerinas chuckled. "You haven't been here long, have you?"  
  
Michelle paused. "Why do you ask?"  
  
"Because Joseph Buquet wasn't killed by the Opera Ghost. He committed suicide." 


	18. Chapter 17: The Mystery

Disclaimer: I don't-Aww, heck, you know.  
  
Guardian Angel  
  
Michelle's hand stopped before the glass reached her lips. Her delicate eyebrows arched. "Suicide?"  
  
The other ballerina nodded smugly.  
  
"Really?" Michelle purred like a cat to a mouse she was about to eat.  
  
"Yes," the smug dancer said. Others, however, disagreed.  
  
"That's not true," a dancer with a whiny voice protested. "He was killed. Everyone knows that."  
  
The first ballerina just smiled and said confidently, "Don't be silly. I know all about it. Madame Giry heard the managers reading Buquet's suicide note. They found it on him."  
  
Michelle raised her eyebrows again. "And how, pray tell, did you come about this knowledge?"  
  
"I heard it from Latrice, who heard it from Meg, who heard from her mother, of course."  
  
"Oh, of course." Michelle rolled her eyes when the rest looked away. "The ballet has gone wonderfully, hasn't it?" she said, changing the subject.  
  
As the dancers simultaneously began praising the ballet, and anything that was remotely related to it, Michelle slipped away unnoticed. Waking back to the nook where she left Erik, she noticed Ubaldo Piangi catering to Carlotta's every whim. Discreetly glancing down, Michelle noted that Carlotta DID seem a little rounder about the waist, but not anywhere else. She also noted that there was a small almost square bulge under Piangi's jacket. Smirking, Michelle moved on, hearing the wedding chimes already.  
  
Michelle was not prepared for the sight that greeted her when she arrived back where she left Erik. He had said he was never charming. So how come there were five or six young women fluttering around him? Michelle, standing ten feet away and unnoticed, crossed her arms under her bosom and watched. A woman with an artistically painted face and so much bosom it almost fell out of her low cut gown put her arm through Erik's and whispered something in his ear, offering a very good glance down her bodice. Something white and hot and ugly ran through Michelle. She wanted to pour her glass of champagne down her dress and pull her hair out. This thought shocked Michelle. She hadn't a violent bone in her body. Well, not too many. And she certainly would never want to cause a scene.  
  
Besides, she noted relieved, it wasn't as if Erik were looking. If fact, he only looked at his court to nod or say the occasional something. The rest of the time he was searching the room as if his life depended on it. Searching for her? Did he want to be rescued from his adoring public?  
  
Finally his gaze stopped on her, and his eyes pleaded to be rescued. When she made no move toward him, he mouthed "Help", and then grimaced when the clinging vine on his arm pressed her breasts against him. Stifling a chuckle born of pure relief that Erik wasn't enthralled by these painted scorpions, she and her champagne glass started over to rescue her friend.  
  
"Are you sure you won't take off your mask, Erik?" the clinging vine asked in a husky voice.  
  
Looking incredibly uncomfortable, Erik replied, "Yes. Very sure."  
  
Another woman standing very close on his other side purred, "We could find a quiet spot and you can take off more than just your mask. I'll even return the favor." This she punctuated by running a hand down Erik's thigh, which started him squirming for reasons other than what the seductive siren thought. Unable to stand the way he was being manhandled-uh...woman-handled- Michelle stepped in to his rescue. "Erik, darling," she said as she stepped forward. "You promised me a dance, dearest."  
  
Erik looked so relieved by her sudden arrival that Michelle had a hard time keeping her smile just a bit seductive. He disengaged himself from the vine and the siren and took her arm. "Of course, Angel," he said taking her arm. He turned back to the disappointed women. "Excuse me. I have previous engagement." After an elegant half-bow, Erik swept her on to the dance floor. "Shall we?" he said stepping forward to take her in his arms.  
  
She stepped out of them. "Actually, that was just an excuse. Why don't we just walk around instead?"  
  
Erik looked slightly disappointed, but smiled and offered his arm. As they were walking, Michelle told him about what she had heard. Erik grinned and said dryly, "Nice to know I'm not a murderer." Michelle chuckled, and then cleared her throat and asked, "So... how did you manage to gather that... that..."  
  
"Bordello?" Erik offered.  
  
Michelle chuckled. "If you like."  
  
He grimaced. "Forgive me for speaking so crudely, but I did not particularly enjoy being harassed by an entire brothel."  
  
Michelle let out a sigh of relief, reassured by Erik's disgusted tone of voice. "Good," she whispered.  
  
"Michelle!"  
  
Michelle looked in the direction of the voice and saw Meg coming toward them. "Hullo, Meg," Michelle said and stepped away from Erik long enough for Meg's customary greeting of a hug. "How are you?" she asked, and looked around. "And where's Raoul? Isn't he usually at these little gatherings?"  
  
Meg paled a little. "I haven't seen him," she said stiffly.  
  
Michelle raised her eyebrows. "Have you two had an argument?"  
  
"No, of course not. Why would we argue?" Meg said hastily.  
  
Michelle shrugged. "Well, you just seem a little upset."  
  
"Why would I be upset? Do you think Raoul has upset me? How could he upset me? He's not worth getting upset over."  
  
Michelle just managed to subdue a smirk. "Okay," she said.  
  
Meg glared at her. "Well, he's not."  
  
"Okay. I believe you." She didn't.  
  
"He's NOT!"  
  
"Meg!" Madame Giry hobbled over to scold her daughter. "How many times have I told you not to raise your voice in public?" She started waving her cane around as if doing so would finally get her daughter to act like a lady. "It is not only rude..." Erik and Michelle ducked as the cane swung over their heads. "It is very unladylike." They ducked again. "And I won't have my daughter acting like a harridan. How do you expect to become Prima Ballerina if you keep acting like a hellcat?" Her cane swung again. Michelle ducked; Erik got hit in the head. "Ow," he said rubbing his aching skull. Madame Giry paid no attention to him. "Come, Meg," she said. "I need to sit down and you need a chaperone." Meg gave Michelle an apologetic smile and followed her mother.  
  
Michelle shook her head. "Something tells me that runs in the family."  
  
"I hope you don't mean the tendency to wave canes around. I don't think I could survive."  
  
Michelle turned to Erik, who was still cradling his head. She tsked. "Do you need a doctor?" she asked.  
  
"No," he said, giving his skull a final rub. "Just a little bruise."  
  
She patted his bruised brain. "Want me to kiss it and make it feel better?"  
  
Erik looked up sharply and glanced at her lips. Michelle felt herself blush and turned away, just to run into Monsieur Firmin. "Oh, Monsieur Firmin," she said hoping. Erik had escaped the manager's notice. "How are you this evening?"  
  
"Why, Miss Michelle. What are you doing in Paris? Does André know you're here?"  
  
"Er... No. Not yet, that is." She tried to see if Erik was still behind her through the corner of her eye. She doubted either Firmin or André would approve of the Opera Ghost's attendance at one of their parties. However, Firmin might just help her locate someone. She turned to him with her most charming smile. "Monsieur, do you happen to know where Raoul de Chagny is at the moment?"  
  
Firmin pondered a moment. "Last I saw he was in the office drinking himself to death."  
  
"Oh, thank you, Monsieur," she gushed before he could continue. "I must go see him right now. Good evening." She grabbed Erik, who had stayed be hind her, yet remained thankfully unnoticed, and pulled him through the crowd and into the empty hall. "Now," she said releasing him. "Why would Raoul be drinking? And why would Meg be so reluctant to talk about Raoul?"  
  
Erik chuckled. "She isn't reluctant to talk about anything else."  
  
"Precisely." Michelle began pacing. "I don't particularly enjoy not knowing things, so we have to find out what those two are hiding."  
  
"Hiding? We?"  
  
Michelle stopped pacing to give him an exasperated look. "What they are upset about, and yes, we. You go to the managers' office and talk to Raoul. I will work on Meg." She started back for the ballroom. Erik grabbed her arm, bringing her to a halt. "Wait a minute," he said. "The Vicomte hates me. And vice-versa," he added at her disbelieving glance.  
  
Michelle shook her head. "I'm sure you too have gotten over your petty feud by now. Now, shoo. I have work to do, same as you." She stopped, then smiled. "I made a rhyme." Then she went back into the ballroom to seek out Meg.  
  
Erik grimaced. He neither wanted to see nor speak to Raoul de Chagny, but Michelle wanted to know what was wrong with the Vicomte. She'd be so disappointed if her refused to at least try to find out. Sighing in defeat, Erik went to get his cloak. He'd spend five minutes with that fop, no more. He just hoped Michelle didn't have a tendrè for the idiot. 


	19. Chapter 18: A Secret Revealed

A/N: To Erin-Yup. You're right.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own it. I don't own it. I DON'T OWN IT!!!  
  
Guardian Angel  
  
Erik slipped through the shadows to the managers' office wondering why he was doing this. *Because you want to make Michelle happy,* his mind taunted. Erik ignored the thought, even if it was true.  
  
The door to the office was closed, but unlocked, so Erik stepped inside. At first, he didn't see the Vicomte, but then he noticed him sprawled on a lounge chair in a dark corner.  
  
"Well," the half-drunk Vicomte slurred. "If it isn't the Angel of Music. Are you doubling for the Angel of Death and come to take me away?"  
  
Erik sniffed haughtily. "I see that booze hasn't altered your memory yet."  
  
Raoul looked down at the snifter of whiskey in his hand and sighed. "Unfortunately not."  
  
Erik was trying to figure out how to broach the subject of Meg when Raoul spoke up again. "Trouble in paradise already?" his mocking voice rang out. "From what I saw last I was there, you and my sister were getting along shwimming-shwim-just fine."  
  
The last thing he said caught Erik's attention. "What do you mean your sister?"  
  
Raoul looked surprised at the question, then smiled like a child caught in a prank. "I thought she'd have told you by now. She doesn't like keeping secrets, doncha know. But Nadir shed she couldn't tell no one."  
  
"Who couldn't tell no one-er, anyone what?"  
  
"Why Michelle, of courshe. She wasn't shupposhed to shay she was my shister." 


	20. Chapter 19: The Revelation

Disclaimer: Take a wild guess.  
  
Guardian Angel  
  
Erik felt the earth stop turning. "Your... sister?" he said in a choked voice.  
  
"Half-shister, actually." Raoul didn't seem to notice his companion's discomfort. "You shee," he continued drunkenly, "Her mother was my father'sh mistress. Don't shee how he got her to be that. Didn't sheem the type if you ashk me. Anyway, she ended up marrying a duke."  
  
"Michelle did?" Erik was still trying to absorb all of this.  
  
"No. No. Michelle'sh mother married a duke. Lord Winshter-Lord Winster- Winterbrook." Raoul sat up, looking pleased that he had accomplished saying such a hard word.  
  
Erik, on the other hand, was anything but pleased. "Excuse me. I must go." Erik strode out of the room, his anger growing with every step. Behind him, he heard Raoul saying, "You aren't mad at her, are you? Don't be mad. She was going to tell you."  
  
Erik stormed into the ballroom. Every head within twenty feet turned to him. He glared right back until they all nervously turned away. Erik scanned the room for Michelle. Not seeing her, he began to stalk around the room. He was detained when an arm caught his. "There you are, darling," one of the women that had been buzzing around earlier purred. Before she could make any discreetly vulgar suggestions, Erik yanked his arm away and continued in his search, ignoring the angry screeches that followed.  
  
"Erik! I'm over here." He turned to the voice and saw the object of his fury coming toward him. "You certainly walk fast," she said breathlessly when she reached him. "I've been trying to catch you since you walked in. Meg was unusually closed- mouthed-"  
  
"Get your cloak," Erik growled. "We're going."  
  
He turned and started walking back to the hall. Michelle had to run to keep up with him. "Erik," she said. "It's only nine o' clock. The real party won't even begin until at least midnight." She laughed until she noticed that he wasn't in a laughing mood. "Erik, what's wrong?" By this time they were in the dressing room, and Michelle had her cloak fastened around her neck. Erik had the mirror opened and had one foot through the opening. Michelle grabbed his arm. "Erik. What is wrong?"  
  
He sneered at her, broke free of her grasp, and disappeared into the inky blackness. Michelle hurried inside, lifting her skirts and following the sounds of Erik's footsteps. She was finally able to catch the end of his cape, and so followed him through the labyrinth of secret passageways. There was no gently leading arm or softly cautious gentleman to lead her now.  
  
*Why is he so angry?* she thought despairingly. *Have I done something wrong?*  
  
When they finally reached the house, Erik yanked is cape from her hands. *So he noticed,* she thought distantly. He turned away, presumably to go to his bedroom, but stopped when Michelle asked, "What is wrong?" He didn't turn around; he just stopped.  
  
Michelle continued hurriedly. "Erik, are you mad at me? Have I done something wrong? Is it because I made you talk to Raoul? I know you don't like him, but if he said something that upset you-"  
  
Erik's bark of laughter held no humor. "Oh, yes. He certainly said something, your ladyship." He turned and saw the shock on her face. "How did you know?" she whispered.  
  
"Your dearly devoted brother told me," he sneered.  
  
"Raoul?"  
  
"Oh, I apologize," he said mockingly. "HALF-brother. Your mother was his father's whore, yes?"  
  
Fury flashed through the hurt in her eyes. "Don't you ever call my mother that," she snarled fiercely.  
  
Erik sniffed. "I don't even know your mother, so perhaps I shouldn't judge." He smiled cruelly. "You, on the other hand, I do know. Or thought I did. You must have had fun playing the peasant."  
  
Michelle felt tears burning her eyes. "I was going to tell you," she said in a choked voice.  
  
Erik laughed without humor again. "When? Right before you left?"  
  
"Tonight," she said softly, praying she wouldn't cry in front of him. "Right before...before the mistletoe."  
  
"Ah, yes. The mistletoe." He chuckled callously. "I must say, you'd have made a fine actress. I actually believed you enjoyed that kiss." Erik glowered at her, the anger burning his eyes camouflaging the pain and hurt of betrayal that twisted his gut.  
  
Michelle felt as though he had slapped her. The tears that had threatened now came pouring out. Angry at her weakness, for letting Erik see how much h could hurt her, she struck out at him. "Just because one woman hurt you, you can't trust anyone!" she yelled. "If you don't want people to hate you for your face, maybe you should try looking a little deeper yourself." Covering her face with her hands, Michelle ran past Erik into her room and slammed the door. Leaning against the wall, she let her tears flow freely. The memory of the things he had said threatened to steal all her strength, so she threw herself across her bed before she could crumble into a heap and buried her head in a pillow allowing the sobs to wrack her body. She finally realized something she should have grasped before. She loved Erik. People had said much worse thing to and about her and it had never hurt. But it hurt this time, because she loved Erik. And he might never love her back. 


	21. Chapter 20: Wisdom from a Bottle

Disclaimer: See first twenty chapters.  
  
Guardian Angel  
  
Erik stared out across the city of Paris and thought about the girl he had left hurt and crying in the cellars of the Opera. Of course, that was a few hours ago. After she ran into her room, he had left his underground refuge hoping to find peace somewhere else. Unfortunately, he had not been able to escape the echoes of the cruel words they had exchanged. That finally drove him here, to the roof, where he sat at the base of Apollo staring out over the city.  
  
"Mind if I join you?"  
  
Erik leaned around the statue to see who the voice was speaking to and saw the Vicomte de Chagny holding two decanters of brandy, two empty glasses, and apparently talking to Erik. At least, he was looking at him. Raoul raised an eyebrow. "Well?"  
  
Erik sighed, figuring his life couldn't get much worse than it already was. "Sure," he said and leaned back again.  
  
Raoul sat down next to him on the ground. "Drink?" he offered, holding up the brandy. "Sure," Erik repeated, and accepted a glass. Raoul poured two fingers of the amber liquid in both glasses and sipped at his. Erik tossed his back, reveling in the burning path it left down his throat. If only it could burn away the memory of the hurt in Michelle's eyes. Not waiting for Raoul to offer, Erik refilled his glass.  
  
When he had tossed back that one and was in the process of swallowing a third, Raoul spoke up. "You're probably wondering how I found you."  
  
Erik gave up on the glass and took a sip straight from the bottle. "Not really," he said honestly.  
  
Raoul ignored him. "I actually was looking for you."  
  
Erik glared at him, though not with his usual enthusiasm. "Why? When I left you, you seemed too drunk to do much of anything except sleeping."  
  
Raoul glared right back. "When you left, you were very angry. And when people are angry, they say and do stupid things." He followed Erik's example and drank deeply from his own bottle. "I figured you'd probably want to talk about it after you'd calmed down."  
  
Erik let out an undignified snort of laughter. "Even if I did, what made you think I'd want to talk with you?"  
  
Raoul shrugged and stared at his brandy. "Misery loves company."  
  
Erik glanced at him. "You're miserable, too?"  
  
Raoul nodded, and then grinned sardonically. "How about you tell me about your love life problems, and then I'll tell you about mine. That way, we'll both feel better."  
  
"You're having love life problems?"  
  
Raoul shook his finger at Erik. "Ah, ah, ah. You go first."  
  
Erik wondered if the alcohol had muddled his brain, then decided that he didn't care. He leaned back with a sigh. "When you told me what she was-is- and in relation to you...I was furious. I felt she had betrayed me. It hurt, so I wanted to hurt her." He Looked down and said half to himself, "God... I made her cry."  
  
Raoul looked up sharply. "Cry? Michelle never cries. Except when she's reading LITTLE WOMEN."  
  
"Thank you," Erik said. "That makes me feel so much better."  
  
Raoul either didn't hear the sarcasm dripping from his voice, or he chose to ignore it. "So what did you say?"  
  
Erik hesitated a moment before answering. "A lot of rotten things. I even accused her of only pretending to enjoy the kiss."  
  
Raoul spit his brandy out. "What kiss?!"  
  
"We got caught under the mistletoe."  
  
"Oh." Raoul nodded understandingly and leaned back again.  
  
After a few moments of silence, Erik spoke up again. "So what's your problem? Trouble in paradise already?"  
  
It was Raoul's turn to snort with laughter. "Hardly. Christine's not even here nowadays."  
  
"Oh, right. She went on her little trip."  
  
"Yes." Raoul frowned into the decanter. "But I can't marry her."  
  
This surprised Erik. "Why not?"  
  
Raoul's shoulders slumped. "Because I'm in love with someone else."  
  
Erik raised an eyebrow and took another drink from the bottle. "That IS a problem."  
  
"That's not even it. I kissed her."  
  
"The girl you're in love with?"  
  
"Yes. And now she hates me."  
  
"Who, if I may ask, is she?"  
  
"Meg."  
  
Erik choked on his brandy. "Little Meg? Meg Giry?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Erik started laughing. "Lord, boy. She hated you long before that."  
  
Raoul scowled. "You can stop laughing now."  
  
Erik got himself under control. He WAS getting a bit tipsy. He set the bottle aside. "Well, good luck getting her back. You'll need it."  
  
Raoul sniffed. "How can I get her back when she was never mine to begin with?"  
  
Erik thought a moment. "Good point."  
  
They sat in a companionable silence for a while longer, when Raoul started chuckling. "Ha, we're a sorry."  
  
Erik glanced at him. "What do you mean?"  
  
Raoul chuckled some more. "We were mortal enemies fighting over the same girl-who, it turns out, neither of us loves-and when we do something so foolish that our new love interests may never forgive us, we drown our sorrows together in brandy."  
  
Erik chuckled as well. It was rather ironic. "What a depressing thought."  
  
"What is?"  
  
"That she may never forgive me."  
  
Raoul shrugged. "Michelle will. Once you apologize profusely on your hands and knees. I'd suggest flowers, too. They're a nice touch."  
  
Erik perked up a little. "Do you think so?"  
  
Raoul shrugged again. "Sure. She's very forgiving. There are very few things she won't forgive."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"Oh... rape, adultery. Kicking puppies and stepping on kittens." He grinned at Erik, and Erik couldn't help grinning back. Then Raoul cocked his head and studied him. "You love her, don't you?"  
  
Erik's eyes widened, then closed in resignation. He leaned back before answering. "As hard as I tried not to. I couldn't help it. I didn't even want to."  
  
"Yes you did," Raoul said, satisfied. "If you didn't want to love her, you wouldn't. It's as simple as that."  
  
Erik stared at him, surprised, then smiled. "I suppose you're right."  
  
Raoul nodded. "Of course I am."  
  
"We ARE a sorry pair."  
  
Raoul laughed; Erik chuckled softly. "Fop," Erik said without any venom.  
  
"Monster," Raoul retaliated likewise.  
  
"Fop."  
  
"Killer."  
  
"Fop."  
  
"Moldy music maker decaying in the cellars of the Opera."  
  
"Fop."  
  
They grinned at each other and clinked their bottles together. 


	22. Chapter 21: Love Alone

Disclaimer: Don't even ask.  
  
Guardian Angel  
  
Michelle splashed cold water onto her face and dried it with one of the soft towels hanging in the bathroom. She checked her face in the hand mirror she had brought with her. Her eyes were puffy and red, as was her nose, as was the rest of her face. But that's what happens when you spend three hours with your head in a pillow weeping over lost love. She felt tears threaten again, but sniffed them back. She looked in the mirror again, then shrugged and put it away. At least the tear stains were gone.  
  
A rap at the door made her start. "Michelle?" Erik's voice called softly. She didn't move. She couldn't let him see her like this. Not when she looked like death on a good day. She heard him sigh and heard a soft rustling like paper or something. She listened to his retreating footsteps and bit her lip. Was he going to apologize? Was there a chance for them?  
  
Steeling herself, she opened the door. Erik was gone. She heard the tinkling sound of a piano. Erik was playing. Not something new. It was the song on his music box; the one with the monkey that looked homicidal. She listened to the song. 'Masquerade. Paper faces on parade. Masquerade. Hide your face so the world will never find you.'  
  
She looked down, gathering strength to go out and face him. On the ground near her door was a bouquet of flowers. Astounded, she picked them up. It was a large bouquet of a variety of flowers. She was having trouble breathing.  
  
Tenderly holding the flowers, she left the sanctuary of her room and ventured out to the parlor where the piano was located.  
  
She stepped into the front room and saw Erik. His back was to her. The final notes of "Masquerade" dissipated into silence. He began a new song, one she had never heard before. This one was a soft ballad.  
  
"Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation," he sang softly. "Darkness stirs and wakes imagination." Michelle walked slowly toward him, trying not to disturb the gentle flow of the song. "Silently the senses," he continued, "abandon their defenses." He played a few more notes; she was right behind him now, hoping for a way to interrupt him, but not startle him.  
  
She needn't have worried. He stopped playing and, as if he had felt her presence, which he probably had, said very softly, "I'm sorry."  
  
Michelle's heart leaped into her throat. She had to say something; something that would tell him that he didn't need to apologize, that she didn't care what he said anymore, that she loved him.  
  
She sat down beside him on the bench and rested her hand on one of his, still resting on the ivory keys. "How does the rest of the song go?" she whispered.  
  
Erik snickered shortly and smiled gently. Without turning to look at her, he began playing again. "Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor."  
  
Michelle leaned her head on his shoulder and listened to his song.  
  
"You alone can make my song take flight. Help me make the music of the night." The final note drifted into the darkness leaving them alone in the night.  
  
Erik's arms snaked around her waist and pulled her against his chest. She went willingly and wrapped her arms around one of his, leaning against him. She closed her eyes and smiled: for the first time in her life, she felt absolutely safe. She started to tell him what was in her heart, but the late hour was finally catching up to her. "Erik," she whispered, and drifted into a peaceful slumber.  
  
Erik felt her go limp in sleep. He rested his head on top of hers, inhaling her sweet scent. He was amazed that, after all that had happened, she trusted him enough to fall asleep in his arms, where she belonged.  
  
Unfortunately, he couldn't hold her all night. Gently, so as not to wake her, he slipped an arm beneath her knees and lifted her. She murmured in her sleep and cuddled even closer. Erik walked slowly to her bedroom, so he wouldn't wake her. Or so he told himself. He went into her room and tenderly laid her on the bed. She was still wearing the gown he had given her, but her hair had come out of its pins and tumbled around her shoulders. Her soft, sweet lips were parted slightly, temptingly. Her dark eyelashes rested against her pale skin. She looked like Sleeping Beauty from the fairy tale. And maybe Erik could be the Prince that awakened her.  
  
Erik mentally shook himself. He shouldn't be thinking like that. It hurt too much, knowing that she was practically a princess, and that he could never be her handsome knight in shining armor. His armor was tarnished and bent. And Lord knew he'd never be handsome. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face and wished things were different, that she would stay.  
  
He turned away and left the room, closing the door softly behind him, before he did something he'd regret. He thought about going to sleep in his room, but the thought of sleeping in a coffin suddenly made him feel sick. He felt too alive to spend his nights in a casket. Thanks to Michelle. He'd have to get himself a bed.  
  
Actually, he wouldn't mind spending the night in her bed.  
  
Growling at himself, Erik stalked into the front room and sat in his throne. He'd sleep here until he could purchase something else.  
  
Erik closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep. And, just to torture himself, he dreamed of spending the rest of is life with Michelle, the woman he loved. With a heavy heart, Erik fell asleep, knowing that if love alone hadn't been enough to make one woman stay, it wouldn't be enough now. 


	23. Chapter 22: What about the other two?

Disclaimer: This is getting so old...  
  
Guardian Angel  
  
Christine sat at her father's grave. It had been a rather lonely Christmas. She had spent all of yesterday in her room at the inn while everyone else went about their yearly celebrations. She didn't mind, though. Her mind had been busy thinking about Nadir. What had he been doing yesterday? Had he been with family? A sweetheart?  
  
Christine shook her head scattering her thoughts. It was none of her business, really. So why did she care so much?  
  
"Oh, Father," she said to her dearly departed sire. "I'm so confused. I don't want to marry Raoul, but I seem to be entertaining thoughts about the daroga." She toyed with the red scarf in her lap. "What am I to do?" She whispered.  
  
A strong wind picked up. As in, it picked up her scarf and carried it away.  
  
Christine let out a little cry of alarm and ran after it.  
  
Right into Nadir.  
  
"Oof." She would have fallen if his arms hadn't gone around her waist to steady her. "I beg your pardon, Mademoiselle," he said, clearly flustered.  
  
"Oh, not at all, Monsieur," she replied shyly, for his hands were still on her waist. "I wasn't looking where I was going. You see, I'm trying to catch my scarf..."  
  
He held up a red scarf.  
  
"Oh. You caught it." She blushed as he handed it to her.  
  
He chuckled. "Actually, it caught me. Flew right into my face."  
  
They both laughed at this. Then they both seemed to realize that he hadn't released her. Their eyes met and stayed linked for a long time. "Have you had breakfast, Christine?" Her name sounded wonderful coming off his lips.  
  
"No, not yet," she admitted in a breathy voice.  
  
"Then, would you care to join me?"  
  
Christine had been staring in his eyes and didn't understand. "Join you for what?"  
  
He smiled softly. "Breakfast."  
  
"Oh, of course. I'd be delighted."  
  
He took his hands from around her waist and offered his arm. *Most people would have looked at me funny if I forgot what we were talking about,* Christine thought. Her gaze shifted to the man walking her back to the inn.  
  
*But, then, he isn't most people.* 


	24. Chapter 23: The Morning After Christmas

Disclaimer: .......  
  
Guardian Angel  
  
Michelle slowly awoke and became aware of her surroundings. She was in bed, and still wearing the gown she wore to the party last night.  
  
Last night. She remembered all the horrible things that had happened: her secret coming out, Erik's fury, her own hatful words. But she also remembered the apology, falling asleep in Erik's arms, the flowers...  
  
Where were those flowers, anyway? She saw them on the end of her bed. *Erik must have brought them in when he brought me,* she thought. She blushed at the thought of Erik putting her in bed. It was rather intimate in a way. She finally got up and dressed in one of her old gowns. It was rather drab compared with the sea-green outfit Erik had given her, but it was a ball gown. Not to mention horribly wrinkled. She didn't know how to get the wrinkles out, but her maid back home would. She sighed and hung it up next to her normal clothes. Perhaps she'd let her mother talk hr into buying a new, more fashionable wardrobe. Lord knew she'd been trying for years now.  
  
She slipped out of her room and was going through the parlor to the kitchen. She stopped when she saw Erik, asleep in the large throne that dominated the wall. She felt a frown forming. Didn't he like the gift she had given him? She backtracked and peeked in his room to see why he didn't like it.  
  
He didn't like it because it wasn't there.  
  
Michelle let out an exasperated sigh. That idiot brother of hers. He was supposed to have delivered it when they were at the party. Oh, well. She could yell at him later.  
  
She went to the kitchen and began making two omelettes: a three egg omelette with practically everything in the kitchen for Erik, and a two egg omelette with considerably less ingredients for herself. Just the way they like them.  
  
As she cooked, her mind wandered to the angry words, the apology, the kiss under the mistletoe...  
  
That kiss had been something special. She didn't have much experience with kisses, but she could tell. Probably because she was in love with him. A smile blossomed on her face. She perhaps she could get Erik to fall in love with her. Perhaps he already was and wanted her to stay. Surely the something she felt when they kissed wasn't one-sided. He liked her, at least. They were friends and he wouldn't want his best friend to leave. Assured by herself, Michelle folded the omelettes. One way or another, he would ask her to stay.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Erik had woken on the throne he spent the night on with a headache, part from the hangover he had and part from spending the night in a chair. Hearing Michelle in the kitchen, he went to his room to dress and shave and comb his hair. Erik smile wryly. Who knew he had a vain side?  
  
Finally prepared to face the woman he loved, he stepped into the kitchen. She was putting the final touches on whatever eggs she had prepared this morning. He back was turned to him, and she was singing softly to herself. It reminded him so much of the first morning they had spent together when she had made breakfast as a surprise for him and had begun to chip away at the wall he had built around hi heart. He had never suspected that she would be so successful.  
  
Michelle turned to put the plates of omlettes on the table and saw him watching her. Self consciously, she brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear and smiled tentatively. "Good morning," she said softly.  
  
"Good morning," he replied just as softly and continued staring at her.  
  
She licked her lips nervously, though why she should be nervous, she didn't know. The action brought his eyes to her lips. He stared so intently it was like a new kind of caress. She cleared her throat. "Are you hungry?"  
  
*That's a loaded question,* he thought. "Yes. Very." With his eyes still on her lips, the answer took on a very different meaning. She obviously thought so, too, because she blushed and turned away. Erik smiled to himself. That was just the reaction he had been hoping for. "It seems a little strange," he continued, "knowing... what you are, that you're still cooking."  
  
Michelle glared at him as she took her seat. "You mean because I'm a Duke's stepdaughter, I shouldn't know how to cook, or do other basic housework?"  
  
Erik took his seat and nodded.  
  
"Well, it might interest you to know that I've only been a Duke's daughter for about seven years."  
  
Erik was surprised. "Really? How did that happen?"  
  
Michelle smiled and cut into her omlette. "Eat your breakfast and I'll tell you.  
  
"My mother was Raoul's father's mistress, but she didn't know he was married. When she found out about me, she wanted to marry him. Unfortunately, he wanted neither of us. She traveled to England to get away."  
  
"Get away from what?" Erik asked around a mouthful of egg.  
  
"I don't know. Memories I guess.  
  
"Anyway, she started working in an inn. One of the nice ones where she wasn't expected to do extra work upstairs." Erik choked on his omlette. "I was born there," she continued. "I started working when I was nine. Mostly by entertaining the guests' children to allow the adults to do their things. I started working as a waitress when I was thirteen.  
  
"About that time, a widowed Duke had been coming to the inn a few times a year on his way to and from his country estate. He was the Duke of Winterbrook.  
  
"When I was sixteen, I heard my mother crying in her room one night. As it turns out, She and the Duke had been... er..." She blushed. "Well, the point is, Mother was going to have his baby."  
  
Erik suppressed a grin to her maidenly blush. "So, what happened?"  
  
"Well, I told her she had to tell him. She said she was going to that night. He had just arrived that afternoon. So, when she went to tell him, I followed.  
  
"It was rather surprising. He demanded that she marry him immediately. He had been trying to get her to the altar for years, actually." She smiled wistfully. "Unfortunately, she refused. Again, I suppose. They began to argue, so I left.  
  
"I was so upset. Mother deserved some happiness, and I was certainly old enough to take care of myself.  
  
"The next morning, Mother asked me to wait her tables, one of which was the Duke's. He was scowling, but seemed really hurt. Mother was positively miserable."  
  
Erik smiled. "I'm sure you put a stop to that," he said, thinking of how she had dragged him out of his misery.  
  
"Oh, of course. So later that day, I climbed to the roof of the inn. It was two stories high."  
  
Erik frowned, not liking the thought of her being up that high. "How did you get there?"  
  
"I used a ladder, and then brought it up with me." She grinned mischievously. "Mother was frantic. Everyone was outside begging me to come down. Actually, I think these two society matrons wanted me to jump. It would have made wonderful gossip."  
  
Erik nodded, still frowning. "What did you do?"  
  
"I told my mother I would only come down if she married the Duke. I knew she wanted to. She said yes, but I didn't really trust her to keep her promise. Luckily, the vicar was there, so he married them, after the Duke gave him a large purse to say he had read the banns.  
  
"Once it was done and I came down, my mother seemed to realize exactly what had happened." Michelle shrugged. "I guess she had been too worried to really think about anything other than my safety.  
  
"The Duke was grinning like a fool, he was so happy. He ordered his servants to pack her things, and mine. I told him he had no responsibility to me, but he said he had always wanted a daughter just like me. And besides, my mother would skin him alive if they left me."  
  
Michelle blinked back the tears that always appeared when she thought about her stepfather. "To me, it was amazing. My real father didn't want me, but this man who had no connection to me except through my mother wanted me to be his daughter. He even legally adopted me." She brushed at her eyes and cleared her throat. "Anyway, Mother had a boy, Bryan, and two years later had the twins, Marie and Jonathan. The upper crust of London society accepted us simply because no on e wanted to cross the Duke." Michelle took a final sip of her tea. "And that is how I became a Duke's daughter."  
  
Erik pondered this a moment as he brought another piece of his egg to his mouth. Then he noticed that both the utensil and the plate were empty. Michelle chuckled and began clearing the table. Erik smiled a little. "That explains a lot, like why you can cook, but there are still a few things I don't understand."  
  
Michelle looked at him over her shoulder from the sink where she was washing the dishes. "Like what?"  
  
"Like why you're not married."  
  
Michelle paused her cleaning, then began again, slower this time. She didn't answer for so long that Erik thought she wasn't going to at all, but she finally spoke. "The men of the ton only wanted me because I have a dowry or because of my connections or both. They never wanted me for me. I want ore than that."  
  
Erik stood and silently went behind her. He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around to face him. He was about to speak when they heard something in the front room.  
  
"Where do you want this?" an unfamiliar male voice rang out. As one, Michelle and Erik went to the door. Michelle arrived first and peeked out.  
  
"In that room, will do nicely." Raoul motioned toward Erik's room. Michelle bit back a word didn't usually use. Raoul was delivering her gift to Erik now? Raoul looked around, probably for the occupants of the house, and saw Michelle. He motioned for her to stay in the kitchen. She indicated that Erik was with her, and Raoul nodded back. "Be careful where you go," he said to the workers. "Some of this place is dangerous."  
  
One of the men walked toward the kitchen. Michelle ducked inside before he saw her and motioned for Erik to keep quiet. "What's in here?" the man said as he pushed open the kitchen door.  
  
Instinctively Erik pushed himself flat against the wall and pulled Michelle flush against his chest. She made herself as small as she could. Before the man could come in, Raoul pulled him out and explained that this area was not finished, and might be dangerous. Neither Erik nor Michelle really noticed because they were too focused on each other.  
  
Erik swallowed hard. When he had grabbed Michelle, his only thought had been to keep her out of harm's way. Now that she was pressed rather intimately against him, his only thought was of how sweet her lips had been, how soft they were under his, and how much he wanted another taste. And the look in her eyes told him she was thinking the same things.  
  
Before he could talk himself out of it, Erik dipped his head to Michelle's and claimed her mouth. This time there was no shy exploring; he devoured her with deep sensual strokes of his tongue, challenging hers into a duel. She gratefully complied by thrusting out her tongue to dance with his. With a feral growl, Erik twisted her head the other way to give himself greater access. Michelle wound her arms around his neck and tangled her hands in his hair.  
  
*Michelle, Michelle, Michelle.* Erik's mind chanted her name like a song. *Michelle. So sweet, so soft, so right.*  
  
Michelle felt Erik's arms tighten around her. Somewhere far away, someone moaned. Then she dizzily realized it was her. She put everything she had into her kiss, trying to say to Erik what words and pride wouldn't let her. She knew she couldn't speak of her love until he did. If he did.  
  
Forcefully, she thrust the thought from her mind. He had to love her, at least a bit. There was no way a kiss could be this powerful without both people feeling it. And contributing to it. Comforted, she continued to kiss Erik for all she was worth. Even more.  
  
"AHEM!"  
  
They flew apart like the other was on fire. Raoul stood in front of them, eyes sparkling with humor. Michelle's face became very red. Erik face felt hot as well.  
  
"The movers are gone," Raoul stated, failing to suppress a small, knowing grin. Michelle glared at him and swiftly went to the sink, where she loudly continued to clean the dishes. "I'll just go show Erik," he continued.  
  
"Do that," Michelle answered curtly.  
  
Erik stood and stared at her back. Why was she acting like this? She was embarrasses, obviously, but was she more so because she had been caught kissing HIM in particular? Not a pleasant thought.  
  
Raoul took his arm and steered him out of the kitchen towards his bedroom, still grinning. He noticed Erik's frown and said, "Don't worry about her. She thinks kissing is a private thing and shouldn't be interrupted." He grinned mischievously, showing a striking resemblance to Michelle. "Of course if I didn't interrupt, I may have had to demand retribution."  
  
Erik tried to scowl at him, but was so relieved by the revelation that he just smiled back. "Shouldn't you hit me or something for finding me with your sister anyway?"  
  
"Normally I would, but I'd rather not cause anymore problems with my future brother-in-law. It would make family gatherings quite uncomfortable."  
  
Erik frowned again. They both knew that Michelle would never want to stay with him, so why was Raoul hinting at a future for them? He was about to respond when Raoul led him into the room. Then he couldn't speak at all.  
  
Instead of his lonely coffin, there was a grand four-poster bed. Its rich mahogany wood gleamed even in the dim light. The linens were a deep burgundy, as were the curtains hanging from the posts.  
  
"She got this for me?" he said incredulously.  
  
"I thought the coffin was bad for your mind."  
  
Erik turned at Michelle's soft spoken words. Raoul had retreated to the front room when she came in. She was watching him carefully.  
  
"It also seemed a bit uncomfortable." She tried to force a humorous grin, but something about the way Erik was looking at her made it impossible.  
  
After a long moment, he took a step toward her. "No one has ever done anything for me," he said, looking deep into her eyes.  
  
Compelled, she took a step forward as well. "You mean 'nothing like this', don't you?"  
  
He took the final step that closed the gap between them. "No, I don't."  
  
He lowered his head and brushed a soft fleeting kiss across her lips. He retreated before she could respond, much to her disappointment. "W-what was that for?" she asked breathlessly.  
  
"That was to shut you up," he said, a smile playing about his lips. Then he leaned down and kissed her again, a bit longer this time.  
  
Michelle tried to still her pounding heart. "And that?"  
  
"That was to thank you."  
  
Michelle nodded solemnly, then stood on her toes and kissed him back. When she ended the kiss, Erik stared at her, stunned. She smiled tremulously. "That was 'You're welcome'."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Raoul bent down so Michelle could kiss his cheek. "I'll be back soon to check on you," he promised.  
  
"I'm sure you will," she replied. "Oh, wait here a moment. I have to give you your Christmas gift." She glanced meaningfully at Erik and back again. "Try not to kill each other while I'm gone."  
  
When she disappeared into her bedroom, Erik looked at Raoul. "Is it really only the day after Christmas? It seems to be so much later."  
  
Raoul nodded in agreement. Then he smiled and extended his hand. "Take good care of her."  
  
Erik shook his hand. "I will, for as long as I have her."  
  
Raoul was about to respond, but Michelle came back with a small wrapped package. "Merry Christmas."  
  
He accepted the gift and kissed her on the forehead. "Thank you, dear. I must go now. I believe Meg is expecting me." Erik gave him a look that said, "Not likely". Raoul just shrugged and left through the passageway. He grinned to himself. *When Christine gets back, I'll tell her that we can't get married, and then I'll propose to Meg.* His grin widened. *And in the meantime, perhaps those two will admit that they're in love with each other.* 


	25. Chapter 24: Masquerade

Disclaimer: No, I don't own One Dratted THING!!!!  
  
Guardian Angel  
  
"Oh, no."  
  
Erik slipped behind a pillar in the ballroom while Michelle chuckled at him. "What's wrong?"  
  
He nodded toward a person. "That's one of the women that was bothering me on Christmas."  
  
Michelle turned and saw the vine-lady heading toward her. Michelle's eyes sparkled with humor behind her mask.  
  
They were at the New Year's Eve Masquerade. Michelle was wearing one of the other dresses Erik got for her, this one a bluish-white fairy-princess gown, and a matching half-mask he had found somewhere. Erik was wearing his customary black and the mask he wore at the last ball.  
  
Michelle hid a smile behind her fan. "Don't worry," she said. "I'll protect you."  
  
Vine-Lady walked right past without even acknowledging her except to see that Erik wasn't around. When she had gone, Erik came out of hiding. "Why are these women so interested in me? It used to be that I couldn't get a person to look at me twice without fainting."  
  
"It must be the mask. Very mysterious."  
  
Erik gave her a mock glare. "I'm not the only one wearing a mask," he pointed out.  
  
"Yes, well......... you're also wearing black. That's mysterious, too."  
  
Erik was about to argue that others were wearing black as well, but decided it wasn't worth the effort. "Have you seen your brother yet?"  
  
Michelle glared lightly at him. "He does have a name, you know."  
  
"I'd rather not remember that you two are related."  
  
"Then why do you call him 'My brother'?"  
  
When Erik shrugged, Michelle let out an exasperated sigh that made him grin. He surveyed the room to see if anyone interesting was around, then saw someone he greatly recognized.  
  
"Excuse me a moment," he said. "I'll only be gone a moment."  
  
He left Michelle and headed toward the door, where he saw Christine and Nadir...together.  
  
When he got there, however, Christine had gone elsewhere. Nadir saw him and smiled. "Hello, Erik. How's life with your guest?"  
  
"What are you doing here with Christine?" he asked, ignoring the question.  
  
Nadir frowned. "Why? I thought... well, I suppose I thought you and Michelle...well, you know."  
  
Erik stared at him while he tried to make sense of that last statement. He finally figured it out. "Oh, nononononono. I don't have feelings for Christine anymore. I just never knew that YOU did."  
  
Nadir seemed to blush a little, but Erik disregarded that conclusion. Nadir never blushed. "Well," the daroga said, "Things have been a bit odd since I left."  
  
Erik chuckled. "Trust me, I know."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Raoul nervously sipped his wine. He couldn't have anything stronger, yet. Meg said Christine would be back tonight, and he would need his wits about him if he was to break their engagement without hurting her, and then propose marriage to Meg. He swallowed nervously and glanced longingly at the brandy many of the other men were drinking.  
  
"Raoul?"  
  
Raoul turned at Christine's soft voice. He smiled hesitantly. "Hello, Christine."  
  
She smiled tentatively back. "Hello, Raoul."  
  
After an uncomfortable moment, they both started talking at the same time.  
  
"Christine, I can't..."  
  
"Raoul, please understand..."  
  
They stopped and stared at each other.  
  
"You go first," Raoul said.  
  
"No, you."  
  
"No, I insist."  
  
"No, I insist."  
  
"No..."  
  
Christine was about to insist again, but changed her mind and took a deep breath. "Raoul... I can't marry you."  
  
He blinked. "You can't?"  
  
"No."  
  
He grinned. "That's wonderful!"  
  
"It is?"  
  
"I can't marry you either."  
  
Christine smiled, too. "You can't?"  
  
"No."  
  
She laughed, relieved. "Oh, I was so worried. I didn't want to hurt you."  
  
"Me either."  
  
She smiled at him. "Well, is there someone else?"  
  
Raoul smiled sheepishly. "Well, yes."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Meg."  
  
Christine blinked, clearly surprised. "Meg?"  
  
He nodded.  
  
"MY Meg?"  
  
He nodded again.  
  
"The Meg that hates noblemen. THAT Meg?"  
  
"Yes." Raoul sighed in exasperation. "Yes, that Meg."  
  
Christine giggled. "Well, good luck winning her."  
  
Raoul chuckled ruefully. "Yes. Well, what about you? Is there someone else for you?"  
  
Christine held up her left hand. Instead of the diamond solitaire he had given her, she wore a silver ring with a small emerald set in it.  
  
Raoul stared. "I can't believe it," he said lightly. "You got engaged to someone while you were still engaged to me."  
  
Christine just smiled.  
  
Raoul smiled back. "Who is he?"  
  
She blushed. "Well, you remember Nadir...?"  
  
Now Raoul was amazed. "The Daroga?! You're marrying him?!"  
  
Christine smiled softly and nodded. Raoul simply sighed in amazement. Then he smiled back. "Be happy, Christine," he said leaning down to kiss her cheek.  
  
"You, too, Raoul."  
  
She put something in his hand and turned to find her new fiancée. Raoul looked in his hand and saw the ring he had given her. He studied the perfect stone. Perfect for a Vicountess, perfect for Christine. Not perfect for Meg.  
  
Smiling to himself, he put the ring in his pocket. He would have to get Meg a new one, one she would like. In that case, he should probably bring her with him.  
  
Raoul's smile turned into a grin. *But first I have to propose and convince her to accept.*  
  
He merged into the crowd, going in search of the one woman who dared to defy him, challenge him, and steal his heart.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Then I found her, proposed, and here we are." Nadir took a drink from his glass to finish his story. Erik nodded. "Sweet story," he said.  
  
"Yes, it was." Nadir shot him a sideways glance. "So, you and Michelle are getting along? No bloodshed yet?"  
  
"No, none." Erik stared into the crowd, though he wasn't really seeing it. Instead, he saw the past few days he had spent with Michelle. Nothing had really changed since their shared kisses, but there was a different element in the air when they were together. The air seemed lighter, even lighter that it had become when she first arrived and turned his dark little world upside-down. He would find any excuse to touch her, even going so low as to brush a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Sometimes when she looked at him, he thought he saw something in her eyes, some hint that she might return his love, which seemed to grow and mature as the days and nights past. He sighed. Their time together was going so fast. Someday it would all end, and he would be condemned once again to darkness; and he had discovered that darkness was not the absence of light, but the absence of her.  
  
"Oh, there she is," Nadir said, breaking Erik out of his reverie. "For a moment I thought you had left her in the cellars."  
  
"Who?" Erik asked, following his friend's gaze.  
  
"Why, Michelle, of course. I hadn't seen her, but there she is, stepping out with the Count. I was worried for a moment."  
  
Erik wasn't listening. Instead, he was walking toward the stuffy noble who dared to accost his love.  
  
Michelle stifled a sigh and smiled at the young Count, wishing that Erik hadn't left her alone. She had had no choice but to accept the Count's invitation to dance without looking rude. The sigh she had subdued was threatening to come out when she heard a familiar voice behind her. "May I cut in?"  
  
The Count stuttered his assent and placed her hand in Erik's. Erik smiled grimly at him, which sent the young man practically running in the opposite direction.  
  
"That was rather rude of you," Michelle chided him.  
  
"So? We both know you'd rather dance with me than with that fop."  
  
She raised an eyebrow. "Actually, I was referring to your abandoning me to talk with Nadir."  
  
Erik just shrugged and began leading her in a waltz. She always spoke so eloquently when annoyed. She sniffed elegantly at his lack of response which made him grin. She tried to hold back a smile, failed, and grinned right back.  
  
When the dance was over, Erik escorted her to the refreshment table and poured her some punch. He took some for himself as well.  
  
"Erik. Michelle. I've been looking for you two." Nadir was right next to them, beaming.  
  
"Well, you've found us," Michelle said wryly. "What happens next?"  
  
Erik smiled at her. He loved her dry sense of humor.  
  
Nadir stepped aside to reveal a handsome man with gray hair and lovely woman with graying hair. As a matter of fact, if the woman were younger and had brown hair, she could have been Michelle. In fact, this was probably Michelle's...  
  
"Mother!"  
  
Michelle ran into the woman's embrace. "Oh, chérie, I have missed you." Her pleasant French accent contrasted with Michelle's clipped English, but the loved felt between them was unmistakable.  
  
"Oh, Mamà, what are you doing here?"  
  
The man--- probably her step-father--- stepped forward. "Nadir has some good news, dear."  
  
Michelle looked at the daroga. "What?"  
  
Nadir smiled. "A few days ago the other man was caught. You are no longer in any danger. You can go home."  
  
Michelle froze like a statue. "I ...can?"  
  
"Of course you can."  
  
Erik glanced at her face to see how she took the news. His heart was actually hurting with the faint hope that she might stay.  
  
Michelle finally responded...with a smile.  
  
"Oh. Well, great!" Michelle hoped her smile didn't look as forced as it was. She looked at Erik, hoping to see something that would tell her he didn't want her to go. For the past few days she had been living with the anticipation that he would ask her to stay, but he never had. Now was the last chance. If she left, it would be forever. It had to be.  
  
If Erik wanted her to stay, if he felt anything at all, he hid it with the stony composure he had perfected over the years. Michelle begged him with her eyes to say something, anything, but he didn't even look at her.  
  
A searing pain ripped through her chest. Her lungs refused to take in any air and her eyes were burning with tears that would remain unshed. *So this is what a broken heart feels like,* she thought distantly. *Not a very pleasant sensation.*  
  
She forced some air into her lungs and pasted another artificial smile on her face. "Well," she said with forced cheerfulness, "I guess I should go pack now. We can leave as soon as I finish." She turned away and strode toward the exit praying that she could get away before she cried and humiliated herself.  
  
She was just outside of the stars dressing room, where the mirror-door was located, when someone grabbed her arm. She turned and saw Erik, who seemed rather angry. "Have you gone deaf? I've been calling after you since you left."  
  
Michelle just blinked dumbly at him. "I'm sorry. I didn't hear you."  
  
Erik's eyes softened, but his hand on her arm tightened. She bit her lip so she wouldn't try to tell him how much she loved him and ruin the last moments of their friendship.  
  
She didn't know how long they stood in the hall staring at each other, but she new one of them had to say something or she would break down, lose control of her emotions.  
  
She was about to speak when Erik blurted out, "Are you sure you have to go?"  
  
Michelle wasn't sure she heard him right. "What?"  
  
"Do you have to go? I mean, you don't really seem to enjoy the whole rich- Duke's-daughter routine, and you've done such a great job with me and my house. And what happens when you leave? You remember how I was when you arrived, don't you?" He was babbling, something Erik never did. "What am I going to do without you there to feed me? I'm going to go back to being a sullen, sulking, skinny grouch living in a dusty house. Not that I only want you for a housekeeper," he quickly assured her. "But you have to admit I can't take care of myself. And what about you? You enjoy bossing me around too much to just leave. What are you going to do without me to take care of? Okay, so maybe I don't need you to take care of me but you have to admit that you enjoy it. You're so good at taking care of things. And you always have so much energy. So I really don't see how you can just up and go away without so much as a by-your-leave."  
  
He seemed to have run out of steam for a moment which gave Michelle a chance to break in.  
  
"You don't want me to go?" she asked tentatively.  
  
Erik took a breath. "Of course I don't."  
  
"But... you never said anything."  
  
His smile was self-depreciating. "How could I? You have so much, so many chances to for a better life than I could give you. All I have to offer is a dark little hovel and myself. How could I compete with all you must have?"  
  
"But you asked anyway."  
  
"Because I realized that I can't live without you. If that makes me a greedy, selfish such-and-such, then so be it." Michelle gave a sharp intake of breath as Erik took her hand. "I love you," he said. "I never want you to leave. I know you don't love me, but...oh, God, Michelle. Please marry me. Maybe someday you can love me. No one could ever love you a much as I do. I promise I'll make you so happy. Oh no, please don't cry." He wiped a tear she hadn't noticed away with his fingers. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you sad. I just want you to be happy. With me."  
  
Michelle laughed through her now free tears. "Oh, Erik," she sobbed. "You are an idiot." She threw her arms around his neck, still blubbering. "I thought you didn't want me here. I thought I'd leave and never see you again. I was so worried. And I want to marry you. I want to marry you more than anything in the world."  
  
Erik stood stunned. Surely he had misheard. She couldn't actually want to marry him. Could she? "You want to marry me?" he asked lamely.  
  
Michelle snuffled and wiped her eyes on his shoulder. He didn't mind; she could use him as a towel any time she wanted. "Yes, I want to marry you," she sniffled. "I love you, Erik. And if you ever let me think you don't want me again, I'm going to drown you in the lake."  
  
Under any other circumstances Erik would have laughed, but this was too serious to find humor in. He pulled his arms from her grasp and cupped her face in his hands. "Sweetheart...are you sure?"  
  
"About what?"  
  
"About us. You really love me? It's not just some misplaced sense of gratitude? You know you don't have to pretend just because I love you."  
  
She smiled, her eyes glowing with love. "Yes, I'm sure. And I could never pretend this anything like this."  
  
"Are you really sure? I would never want you to---"  
  
Michelle cut him off with a long, sweet kiss that left them both breathing hard. When she pulled away, Erik asked, still slightly dazed, "What was that for?"  
  
She grinned. "That was to shut you up." She leaned up and kissed him again.  
  
He swallowed hard. "And that?"  
  
"That was just because."  
  
He smiled and was about to kiss her again but was cut off by a loud group of people who had suddenly developed a cough. He turned around and saw The Duke and Duchess of Winterbrook, Christine and Nadir with linked arms, and Raoul holding an indignant Meg by the arm. Erik glared at Raoul. "You have atrocious timing."  
  
The Duchess suddenly burst into tears and ran over to embrace Michelle. "Oh, I'm so happy. Nadir said he knew the perfect man for you, and now you're getting married!" While she sobbed, Michelle asked, "Just how long were you standing there?"  
  
"Long enough." This was from the Duke of Winterbrook. He stepped forward and studied Erik. Though Michelle's step-father was a few inches shorter than him, his mere air of authority made Erik stand up straighter. After a few tense seconds where the only sounds were those of the Duchess's sobbing, the Duke held out his hand to Erik. "Welcome to the family."  
  
Erik released his pent up breath and shook his future father-in-law's hand. The Duchess had gotten in control of her weeping and had started chattering. "...and of course once we return to England and start planning your wedding, you'll have to introduce dear Erik to all our friends."  
  
That caught his attention. "Wait a minute. England? Who's going to England?"  
  
"Why you are, dear. Michelle promised that I could plan her wedding, and it simply must be in England. Now, chèrie, don't fuss. Leave that to me. I'm sure dear Erik will be just fine among our friends."  
  
The woman was acting so like a mother that it was impossible to be angry with her. Erik glanced at Michelle, who sent him a helpless look, and then turned back to his future mother-in-law. "Well, I suppose a promise is a promise, Your Grace."  
  
"Oh, none of that now. You must call me Mamà." She came over and gave him so great a squeeze around his middle that he couldn't breathe. "I just cannot wait to become a grandmother."  
  
"Mother!" Michelle cried horrified.  
  
Suddenly, another voice echoed down the hall. "Ma soeur! Sister! Is that you?"  
  
Monsieur Andre appeared behind the other two couples. The Duchess released Erik and flew to him. "Mon frere! My brother! How good to see you!"  
  
Michelle shook her head and smiled ruefully. "Hello, Uncle Andre."  
  
Erik choked, "Uncle?" 


	26. Epilogue

Disclaimer: If you haven't figured it out by now, you're an idiot.  
  
EPILOGUE  
  
The butler in the Duke of Winterbrook's Paris townhouse took Erik's cloak and hat. "Miss Michelle will be down soon, sir," he said in his refined monotone.  
  
"Actually, she's here now."  
  
Erik turned to the stairs and watched his fiancé come down the stairs. She was wearing a sky blue dinner dress, a new one she had gotten with her mother recently. Since she the masquerade, she and her mother had purchased an entire new wardrobe for her, everything in the heights of fashion.  
  
Erik met her at the foot of the stairs and kissed her hand. If they had been alone, he'd have kissed more than that, but he couldn't offend the butler's tender sensibilities. She smiled tenderly at him. "Everyone else is in the Blue room. We should join them."  
  
Erik nodded and offered his arm with a smile. She took it and they walked down the hallway of the large house. Once they were out of eye- and earshot, Erik swept her into his arms and kissed her long and hard. When he finally released her for air, he gasped, "I've missed you."  
  
She chuckled breathlessly. "I noticed."  
  
He playfully bit her neck and made her shiver. "Are you sure you don't just want to elope?"  
  
She sighed. "I'm sorry, but Mother had her heart set on a big wedding. And since she didn't get one, that means I do."  
  
Erik sighed and pulled back from her neck. "I hate to say it, but your brother had the right idea."  
  
"He and Meg are getting back tomorrow."  
  
"How did he convince her to run off with him anyway? It seemed to me that she wanted nothing to do with him."  
  
"As far as I know he kidnapped her."  
  
"At least he didn't have to deal with relatives that hate him."  
  
"Don't worry. Uncle Andre will warm to you, I'm sure. He just has to get to know you, that's all."  
  
"The problem is that he does know me."  
  
"Not like I do."  
  
Erik looked down into her soft adoring eyes and wanted to kiss her again. As if she read his thoughts, she pulled away. "Come on," she said. "They'll be wondering where we are."  
  
He sighed. "All right." Then Erik smiled rakishly. "Someone would just walk in on us anyway."  
  
The End  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
A/N: Like it? Hate it? I may be writing a sequel, so tell me what you think. 


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